


Wunderkind-Season 4

by JustAnotherWriter (N1ghtshade)



Series: Wunderkind [4]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Found Family, Gen, Past Rape/Non-con, Team as Family, Vigilante AU, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 46,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25334917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtshade/pseuds/JustAnotherWriter
Summary: Some things have changed. But some things will always stay the same.The Phoenix has risen from the ashes of another disaster. But the threat is far from over. With Tiberius Kovacs still at large, threatening Jack and everyone he cares about, and the rise of a mysterious and dangerous new organization with ties to Samantha Cage's shadowy past, the team is facing some of their greatest enemies yet.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016) & Riley Davis, Jack Dalton/Diane Davis (MacGyver TV 2016), Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Wilt Bozer & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Wunderkind [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1283609
Comments: 73
Kudos: 70





	1. Fire+Ashes+Legacy=Phoenix

###  401-Fire+Ashes+Legacy=Phoenix

MISSION CITY

YES MAC’S BACK HERE AGAIN

“You know, I really, really don’t need a babysitter,” Mac says, when he walks out into the parking lot of Mission City’s middle school to find Desi in the car, feet propped up on the dash, working on a burger wrapped in greasy paper. 

“Jack said otherwise before he left on the honeymoon. And if you die, he’d kill me, so I’m not taking chances.” She shrugs and offers him a paper bag of fries. “And honestly, running around watching over you while you do your nerd thing would be a very cushy gig if you’d let me actually turn on the AC in this car. I know you haven’t dismantled it yet.”

“You put it so cold my nose freezes!” Mac says, chuckling anyway as he slides in. 

“Well, you can be glad you only have to put up with one more day of me. And then we can pick up Jack and his blushing bride from LAX and you can go back to riding around with a Texan who is perfectly comfortable roasting alive inside his vehicles.” 

_ Back to normal, whatever normal is now. _ It’s been...an intense two months. Mac was kept away from most of the rougher moments, everyone had apparently agreed that BZ poisoning and losing his biological dad, even if James was a monster, were good reasons to not flood him with the issues plaguing the agency.

He only found out a month after the fact that they almost lost their clearances, thanks to Riley casually mentioning having had to polish her resume. When he asked Jack about it, Jack had said he’d been sure it would get straightened out, and if it hadn’t, he was fully ready to pack up and move back to Texas, he’d already asked Diane. 

_ Of course Jack had a backup plan. _ Mac actually wouldn’t have minded at all, if they went to the ranch and started over from the ground up. It wouldn’t be the first time his life has been completely turned upside down, and definitely not the worst. But they never had to use it. 

Patty fought tooth and nail to keep Phoenix alive. And she won, somehow.  _ Jack says it’s because she knows where the bodies are buried, and I know Patty well enough to think he’s probably right _ . A reconstructed operations policy and a slightly altered name seem to have been enough to placate the brass intending to shut them down for good. “The Phoenix Institute for Global Scientific Research” is a mouthful, but everyone who’s transferred still calls it the Phoenix Foundation. Patty’s still dealing with a few people determined not to let the agency last, and they’re still not fully cleared from a probationary status, but…there’s still a Phoenix. After it all. 

One good thing about their new status is that Mac (with Jill backing him all the way) got to push for a program that, to hold up their cover as a research think tank, works closely with junior-high, high school and college students in STEM fields, offering internships and training seminars. He’s done eight college lectures so far, and managed not to set any classrooms on fire, which Jack says he counts as a win. Mentoring Valerie and guest teaching sixth grade science in Mission City falls under that umbrella as well. As does spending a little more time with Annabelle. Mac thinks Annabelle has a good deal of her father in her, she seems fascinated by anything he does that makes things blow up, although he tries not to encourage that, at least within earshot of her mother. 

Jack and Diane are  _ finally  _ on their honeymoon, that they had to reschedule twice because of international incidents. Matty finally took pity on them and instructed them to just let one of the Phoenix pilots fly them to Hawaii instead of trying to book tickets for the third time. Mac can’t help but grin at the series of selfies he’s been sent from where the two are crashing at Steve’s place since it’s about the only really safe vacation destination Jack knew.  _ They’re having fun.  _ Jack’s smile is so huge and genuine. Something that’s been rare since Kovacs. 

Riley officially has her own team now. Sam and Eileen returned from the Cabin a month ago, Eileen passed her entry exams to be accepted as a Level 1 agent, and the three of them have formed a highly successful strike team. Mac sees less of Riley than he used to, but he can tell she’s happy. 

She and Billy have managed to hold onto a friendship. After the whole mess between them died down a little, Riley went back to Georgia to see the whole family, and managed to re-cement her friendships with them. She hadn’t wanted to lose the Coltons over the misunderstanding with Billy. They’re not dating anymore, but according to Riley, Billy isn’t seeing anyone else either right now. Mac guesses he’s not over Riley yet. 

Leanna’s undercover is still in place. Bozer hears from her once in a while, when she can get a message through. But those are few and far between and getting fewer each month as Leanna dives deeper into her work.  _ Matty warned them about relationships in the spy game. I guess only time will tell if they’re an exception to the rule, or if it will tear them apart like it did Matty and Ethan.  _

They all feel a little bit adrift. Mac’s found that Desi’s become their rock, the one all of them go to talk to when they feel like things are spinning out of control. She’s stoic, and her more logic oriented approach to situations helps balance the emotional responses Mac knows the whole team has. 

He’s lost count of how many times Desi has apologized for misjudging him. She reminds him of Jack in that way. It’s funny how the people in Jack’s found family tend to seem like they might actually be related to him. Mac wonders if that’s because Jack attracts a certain type of person into his friend group, or if he just rubs off on everyone around him. Maybe it’s both. 

While a little of Desi is a very reassuring thing, the amount of her Mac has dealt with over the past two weeks is...less so. He’s had five out of state seminars in that time,  _ I agreed to them all because staying busy was better than being home without Jack, _ and found out only after the fact that Jack’s stipulation for Mac traveling was that where he goes, Desi goes. 

Logically, Mac understands. He’s been kidnapped a few too many times, and between Bozer running the PR side of their new cover and Riley working extra ops, Desi was the obvious choice. 

The thing is, without Jack as a buffer, he and Desi are like oil and water. He’s sort of surprised they haven’t killed each other yet, by accident, on purpose, or maybe both. Between her driving, his improvised science to save them from a guy who showed up on their tail in Omaha and could have been coming for any of the contracts Mac is sure both of them have on their heads (the man is not talking, even to Cage, as of now), and the sheer amount of times they’ve managed to piss each other off, it’s...kind of a miracle both of them are still breathing. 

It’s like the first few months with Jack. Teasing with a bite to it, a bit less faith in Mac’s skills and abilities. But they’ve settled into the weirdness, and now Mac is pretty sure they’re driving each other crazy for the fun of it.  _ I’m so used to everyone treating me like I’m fragile, avoiding antagonizing me even the least. _ Desi doesn’t do that, even though she knows his history now. She still plays rough, and in a strange way, Mac appreciates it.  _ She doesn’t remind me of how broken I’ve been. She reminds me how strong I am now.  _

It’s a strange kind of friendship, but Mac’s grown to appreciate it.  _ But not enough to want this to last another week. _

The drive down the coast is punctuated by occasional stops to admire the scenery (Mac takes time to appreciate what he sees now, the temporary blinding scare definitely reminded him that he takes his eyes for granted) and to let Carlo and Mickey out to walk in the roadside parks that allow dogs. Mac figured a trip to Mission City wouldn’t be a bad one to let the dogs enjoy a roadtrip for, and he was right. Both of them have been very well behaved. 

Desi pulls up on Mac’s street and then brakes, frowning. “Whose car is that in your driveway?”

Mac doesn’t recognize it. From the sticker on the back, it’s a rental of some sort.  _ Who knew I was gonna be gone?  _ Desi pulls her gun. “Let me go check. Stay put.” Mac nods, then catches sight of a familiar mohawk-topped silhouette in a window. 

“Looks like Jack and Mom are home early.” It feels a little weird to be calling them that, but saying ‘Dad’ is reserved for talking to Jack to his face, in Mac’s mind. He’s known him longer than he’s known Diane, and it’s just second nature to call him Jack.

Desi still keeps her gun out as they walk to the door and knock, but when it’s opened by a smiling Jack, she tucks the weapon back in her belt. 

“I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow.” Mac says.

“Why, were you planning to throw a wild party with your parents gone and got caught?” Jack asks, grinning and ruffling Mac’s hair. 

“Stop!” Mac chuckles, pushing Jack’s hand aside, only to be pulled into a gentle hug by Diane. 

“As you can see, your genius is alive,” Desi says. “Barely.” She gives Mac a raised eyebrow. “I’m surprised he didn’t blow us all up three separate times. I was considering shooting him myself if he tore my car apart like he threatened to.” 

“I was trying to save our lives!” Mac insists. “And you almost crashed us at  _ least  _ five times, so I think I would have been less damaging to the car!”

“ _ Almost. _ I’m a qualified pursuit driver, Mac.” 

Mac looks up to see Jack stifling laughter and even Diane chuckling. 

“You kids,” Jack gasps when he’s capable of speaking again. 

“What made you come home early?” Mac asks. “Did Steve kick you two lovebirds out?”

Jack shakes his head, a slight frown slipping onto his face. “Well, Matty called. Said she hated to interrupt, but she figured I’d be pissed if she didn’t let me know this was happening. She wants to send you on an op, and she didn’t want to do that without me there.” 

“She didn’t tell me yet,” Mac says, pulling out his phone. “Nope, no missed calls or texts.”

Just then, his phone buzzes.  **War Room, ASAP. Time sensitive op.**

Mac glances at Desi, who’s reaching for her own phone. “Looks like she’s assembling all the Avengers. Whatever this is, it’s got to be big.” 

* * *

THE WAR ROOM

IT’S GOOD TO BE HOME

Sam twists her necklace through her fingers, watching the team file in. She missed them more than she’d ever admit to their faces. 

Mac looks more genuinely happy than she’s ever seen him, walking in with Jack’s arm thrown across his shoulders. _ I’m glad things are finally really turning around. _ As much as she hates to admit it, she knows that with James still around, Mac hadn’t been able to fully accept Jack as his father figure, that on some subconscious level he still felt like he had something to prove to James, owed the man something. Now he’s gone for good and Mac is able to move on with his new family.

There’s a different feeling working with Riley too. Sam’s spent more time with her, as part of Riley’s small strike team, and she’s seen the new confidence and a general all around more open and joyful Riley than she remembers. 

_ It’s the honeymoon period for all of them.  _ There will be rough times and family struggles ahead, Cage is too much a student of human nature to believe there won’t be. But she knows they’ll weather it together, like they have every other challenge they’ve faced. 

When the team is assembled, Sam turns forward to watch the screen and listen to Matty’s briefing. 

Matty looks sober and sad. “We received a distress call from an operative in Egypt. A member of a small governmental organization similar to Phoenix has been reaching out to the international intelligence community for help. His partner was captured on an op that went bad, and the government is refusing to provide assistance. The team and the agency itself have been disavowed.”

She pulls up two photos, one of a tall dark-skinned man with a shaved head and laughter lines around his eyes, and a second of a young man with dark hair and eyes who’s not quite looking at the camera.

“Agent Gene LeRoux is a former French special forces soldier who left the military to join the Cairo branch of the now defunct Horus Agency.” She gestures to the taller man. “He was partnered with a local operative, Tarek Maher.” She points out the younger man. “As of twelve hours ago, Maher failed to make his scheduled contact with LeRoux. Their current operation was to infiltrate the network of one Darius Almasi.”

Cage nods, picking up when Matty trails off. “Almasi is a known human trafficker who runs one of the largest illegal operations in North Africa. We have a limited window of time before he makes that agent disappear forever.” 

“And we’re his only chance of getting home safely,” Matty adds. “Almasi has deep ties in the government, it’s how he’s been able to stay outside the law for so long. Evidence has gone missing and sometimes key witnesses disappear. The hope was that an outside nongovernmental agency would be able to get and hold proof long enough to make a case.”

“And now they’re just hoping their agent gets home alive.” Jack sighs. 

Thornton speaks up, and Sam blinks. She didn’t even see the woman come in.  _ She’s still the best. _ “Officially, we can’t take this op. The agency is in probationary status, which means any and all overseas ops in countries we haven’t declared enemy nations are off the table. Unofficially…” She glances at them all. “If this goes south, you will all be disavowed, and not even Phoenix will be able to come for you. If there is still a Phoenix when the government finds out agents were operating illegally on friendly soil.”  _ And Mac would be left potentially in the hands of dangerous traffickers with no way out. _ Sam can tell Thornton is offering him an out. Making this volunteer-only.

Mac looks from the photos on the screen to Jack’s face. “I’m in.” 

“Then I’m with you.”

“I’m going,” Riley says, putting a hand on Mac’s shoulder.

“Sure, why not,” Bozer says. 

“I’m in,” Sam says, overlapping with Desi’s affirmative. 

“Then I guess that settles it,” Matty says. “The jet’s wheels up in ten for Cairo.”

* * *

CAIRO

YES THEY’RE BACK

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Jack, you’ve been saying that since we got on the jet.” Riley shakes her head. “I’m going to be fine.” 

“It’s Cairo, Riles.” Jack stares out the window at the sandy landscape when Desi banks and starts approaching the runway. “Don’t jinx us.”

Riley nods, hands straying to her neck, where her necklace is conspicuously missing. Even if she won’t admit it, Jack can tell she’s worried. He can’t stop seeing phantom bruises on her throat, the unnatural paleness in her cheeks and lips. 

He’d wondered if she was going to die that day before he ever got the chance to tell her he thought of her as his own flesh and blood, no matter what happened with her mom.  _ Diane breaking up with me upset her as much as it did me. She probably wondered if I’d request a new partner so I didn’t have to be around her and be reminded of what happened.  _ He’d wanted to tell her nothing anyone else did could ever make him leave her, and nothing she did could do that either. But…they’d run out of time. 

It was nothing short of a miracle that Riley survived last time. And Jack doesn’t want to push their luck. Especially not now that she’s officially his child in any way that matters. He’s not sure she’s stopped smiling since the wedding. 

“I’m more worried about Mac,” Riley says softly. He’s dozing in his seat where he fell asleep playing a card game with Bozer. “I don’t like the idea of sending him into a hornet’s nest like Almasi’s operation.”

“I don’t either,” Jack says. “But you know he’d protest if we asked him to stand down.” It’s the only reason he hasn’t argued with Matty about all this.  _ Mac would be heartbroken and upset if he found out he’d been scratched from an op just because of his past. _ He’s worked hard to work past it and put all of that behind him. The least they can do is respect that. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare the hell out of Jack every time they go up against people like that. 

He’s scared for Riley too, always has been. The thought of anything like that happening to her is sickening and horrifying. But…there’s something different in the way he worries for Mac. Riley knows that it wouldn’t be her fault. Mac…Jack isn’t sure the kid’s ever been fully able to accept that he didn’t do something to bring on that cruelty. 

_ He gave in in prison because it was the only way to survive, and that did a lot of damage. _ Jack’s going to have to have a conversation about that someday, whenever he can figure out how to say, ‘it wasn’t your fault, you did what you had to do to survive and I’m glad you’re alive’ without implying that he’s glad this happened. Because Mac reads so much into every conversation. 

Wheels scrape the runway, and Mac blinks awake, yawning and pushing the blanket off his shoulders. “We’re here?”

“Yep.” Jack stares out the window. “Cairo, home of scary guys with guns, mummies, and curses.” 

“It sounds like you walked into an Indiana Jones movie,” Bozer says. “Are you sure you’re not exaggerating? Just a little?”

“Do not insult the Cairo curse, dude.” Jack says. “Otherwise you might find yourself locked in a sarcophagus with a mummy. And believe me they have no respect for personal space.”

They’re met at the runway by a Land Rover that was probably once a brassy brown color but is so covered with dust it looks tan. Through the dusty window glass Jack can see that the man in the driver’s seat is LeRoux. Matty must have made contact in answer to his plea for help and told him agents were on the way. 

The team piles into the vehicle, a little crowded in the back but everyone fits. The vehicle smells like several-days-old sweat and spilled food. Introductions are quick and terse, and Jack sees Mac’s hand tremble a little when he shakes LeRoux’s hand.

“What do we have to work with?” Jack asks. “I hate to ask but…can we be sure your man is even still alive?”

“He is.” The words are bitten out bitterly. “They sent me proof.”

“So this is a ransom?” Bozer asks. “What are they asking for?”

“Almasi wants me to turn over everything I have on his organization.” Gene says. The man looks like he’s aged ten years in the past two days. Jack doesn’t blame him.  _ I know the feeling.  _ “He sent a video today. The things he and his men are doing…” the man swallows. “I know he will kill Tarek the moment he has what he wants. But it might be a mercy.” He sighs. “But how do I let him die knowing he suffered for nothing? That all his work is gone?”

“He sent you a video?” Riley asks. “I’m...I don’t want to sound callous but...can I see it? I might be able to find where he’s holding Tarek.”

“You don’t think he’d scrub the metadata?” Bozer asks.

“The man has half the government in his pocket. He doesn’t have to.” Riley looks angry, but also the kind of angry that has a point, a purpose. A direction. She’s got something to work with. “Even if he did, I’m willing to bet I’m better with a keyboard than he is.” 

“Did he give you a meet time?” Jack asks.

“No. He sent a location. Said when I’m ready to cooperate, to put the evidence there and walk away.” 

“That’s a setup if I ever saw one,” Desi says. “He’s probably got that place wired to blow. He’s going to kill you and destroy all the evidence if you so much as show your face.” She frowns. “I’m surprised he hasn’t wired your apartment.”

“I’m sure he has. I haven’t been back since Tarek didn’t make it to our meet,” LeRoux says. “I had the laptop and the flashdrive with our intel in the car. I’ve been living out of here ever since.” He frowns, glancing around. “It’s not much, but…it’s better than where he is.” 

Jack nods. “We’re going to do everything we can to get him back.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait till we get to kick his ass.” Desi says, her hand clenched against her side like she’s forcing herself not to punch someone out right now. 

LeRoux parks them on a small, quiet street, and Riley takes the laptop he hands her. The others step outside, and Jack leads them down the street to a small food vendor’s cart. Mac is too nervous to eat, but Desi and Bozer both buy a sampling of the local street food. Sam melts into the crowd and returns with clothing that will allow them to blend in with the locals, at least as much as they can. 

Desi seems nervous and on edge, glancing around while she eats her kebab. “You doing alright?” Jack asks. He knows after Brazil she’s gotten very protective of Mac and this situation is probably bringing back memories of what she considers a personal failure. 

“I’ll be better when we take down that son of a bitch,” She mutters. “People like that are the scum of the earth.”

Jack nods. “I’ll agree with you there. Anyone who looks at another person and only sees their own pleasure or profit, there’s gotta be something wrong with them.”

“Ma and Ba told stories of people who preyed on the Vietnamese refugees. They were lucky; Ma spoke enough English that she was able to get a job and they didn’t feel so desperate. But…a lot of others weren’t. And I’ve seen it over and over, all over the world. Monsters like that take advantage of people in bad situations and make it even worse.” She snaps the kebab stick in her hand. “I want to put every one of them in a hole to rot alone with their thoughts. But I’ll settle for taking down Almasi. I heard about him in the agency. He funnels in thousands of refugees that think they’ll be smuggled to safety.” 

Jack flinches at the memories of the family they helped in Romania. They were fortunate to get as far as they did. There are all too many who aren’t.

Desi glances at Mac, who’s talking to Bozer about something at a nearby stand. “All my years dealing with traffickers and their victims, and I didn’t see that he was hurt. He didn’t look like the sort of person I expected it to happen to.”

Jack nods.  _ No one’s really safe. No matter who they are.  _ And sometimes, maybe, the illusion of safety is worse. “It’s easy to misjudge. Or to misinterpret. I did too. And…all we can do now is move forward from here. Maybe save a few kids like him.” 

Desi nods, then looks up sharply when there’s a whistle from the end of the alley where the Land Rover’s parked. 

Jack grins. “Riley got something.”

* * *

LEROUX’S CAR

NOW IT SMELLS LIKE LOTS OF GARLIC

Riley only realizes when she reaches into the empty bag for more falafel that she’s mindlessly eaten the whole bag Bozer brought her while she’s been working. 

She’s trying to keep her mind off the fact that Mac, Jack, and Desi are headed to the location she pinged off the video. The metadata had been corrupted, but it was a sloppy job, as Riley had predicted, and it hadn’t taken long to get a location. Sat feed confirmed a compound in the desert outside the city. 

She doesn’t like not being with them, but they need her here sorting through the intel that Almasi wants.  _ If I went along I’d just be taking it right back to him.  _ At first she’d wondered why Almasi even bothered to ask for something that could have been copied a dozen times over by now. But when she plugged in the drive, she understood.  _ He may not be good at scrubbing metadata but he’s very good at securing files. _ They’re encrypted and locked to a read-only setting. This drive is some kind of stolen original. There’s no way to copy the files to anything else…unless you know the kind of tricks Riley’s learned after years of getting ahead of people like this. 

Her team’s lives or at least their safety might depend on how good she is right now. Her fingers are flying, running backdoors and decryptions at rates that are beyond even her normal. 

When the files finally open, and Riley sets the banking information to translate into English, she gets on comms with the team.  _ They’ll need to know what kind of a hornet’s nest they’re heading into.  _

“What you got, Ri?” Jack asks. “We’re about fifteen minutes out, and we’re seeing some kind of military vehicle convoy incoming. Thinking about using one of their trucks to get inside.”

“That’ll probably work,” Riley says. “Almasi’s not just amassing a fortune by selling human beings. He’s funneling his profits into another operation. The encryption on what your agent got before he was taken is state of the art, but…with a little time I was able to break it, and I can see why Almasi wanted it back so badly.” She turns the screen so everyone in the room can see. “Darius Almasi’s building his own private army.”

“Thus the trucks,” Jack says. 

“He sells the women, children, and the men who are too old, and turns everyone else into his soldiers.” She frowns. “He also recruits, he has personnel files on his officers and some of these faces are popping up as ex-foreign military in my databases.”

“Okay, so we’re dealing with a creep who wants to take over the world?” Desi asks. 

Riley frowns. “Here’s where it gets weird. These guys aren’t  _ outfitted _ as a private military force. There’s a spreadsheet breaking down divisions with different country’s uniforms, and Almasi’s made a point to buy planes, weapons, and vehicles used by different countries. There’s Syrian, Lebanese, Libyan, Egyptian…”

“I know what he’s doing,” Cage says, and there’s a strangely guilty look on her face Riley doesn’t have time or the mental energy to process. “He’s planning to instigate a war.” She looks around the room. “He’s amassing a cache of weapons and supplies, and he has established smuggling routes where he can move them in and out of a country. If he launches a strike against one of those nations, he’ll do it with an army that places the blame on another country’s military. The other country will deny all knowledge of an attack, which will look like they’re covering something up, and he starts an international war without ever needing to be directly involved.” She frowns. “He’s in the perfect hotspot to do it.” 

“But why would a trafficker want to start a war?” Bozer asks. “Wouldn’t that put a dent in the operation, if he can’t move freely?”

“Not if he plans to sell his armies to the highest bidder,” Riley says.

“It’s possible this was his plan all along.” Cage frowns. “Almasi’s been at this a while, but his end goal might always have been to destabilize the region and profit off that. He just needed a fast way to get the money and men to outfit his armies.” 

There’s a dark look on Sam’s face, one Riley hasn’t seen since they took down Scorpion. Somehow, this op is bringing her past back to haunt her. Riley remembers what Cage said when they were fighting the oil well fire in Nigeria. 

_ She’s been the person on the other side. The one planning to topple regimes and gain by it.  _ Riley’s found it all too easy to forget what Sam was. She doesn’t wear her past on her sleeve like Mac. But this op is hitting home and cutting deep.

“Be careful going in,” Riley says, unnecessarily.  _ If they get caught… _ She can’t bring herself to finish the thought. 

* * *

STOLEN TRUCK

THEY’RE THE BEST PASSPORTS

“I cannot believe that worked,” Mac mutters from the back as the gate closes behind them.

“Almasi’s got five different mini armies, with guys from all over the region. His guard wasn’t gonna look twice at someone who was carrying the right ID.” Jack shrugs. It was a pretty easy in. Take out the last truck in the convoy with one of Mac’s gadgets, then steal the driver’s uniform and smuggle Mac and Desi in in the back with the cargo. He heard Mac opening crates and digging through things all the way up to the gates. Kid’s probably got his own mini arsenal back there now. 

Now, they’re past the thick wall of the compound, and the massive gate. Jack glances in the rearview at the guards walking around the top of the wall.  _ This place is a fortress. _ Off to his left, he can see some wooden shacks that look like barracks, and a line of men in uniform marching double-file with rifles over their shoulders. This must be one of the training camps for Almasi’s army. Riley’s working on getting locations of any more. Jack looks away from the line of men. Now’s not the time to wonder how many are prisoners, how many watched their families ripped away from them before they were dragged into a life they didn’t want. He tries to block out the shuffling steps and the sight of what appears to be a whipping post outside a slightly more well-kept building that’s probably home to officers. The ground around the pole is a visibly darker brown than the sand everywhere else. He swallows and keeps the truck moving.  _ Get that agent back, and then Riley can hand over his intel and get Almasi’s operation ripped out by the roots. _

Jack pulls around behind the building that’s the closest to Riley’s geographic ping. It’s a low, squat concrete-block building with narrow barred windows and heavily reinforced doors. Perfect for keeping a prisoner. 

“Looks like the roof’s the best way to go in,” Mac says. “Riley’s sat view showed vents up there.” He puts one foot up on the edge of a stack of crates near the wall and starts to pull himself up. “I’ll move fast if I’m the only one in there. I’ll call you if there’s trouble and you can come back me up, but…” Jack feels like he’s seeing the kid vigilante all over again. Some part of him will never be able to forget that Mac used to be alone to face the world. And he knows some part of Mac never will either. _He’s trying to protect us._ _And he sees himself as the one who’s expendable._

But as much as he hates to admit it, Mac is right. Jack doesn’t like sending him in alone, but the more of them there are, the more chance of being caught. They have no idea what the guard rotations are in there, because there’s no cameras Riley can get behind. Mac is very, very good at staying hidden and light on his feet. Jack and Desi are no slouches, but both of them are fighters by nature. Mac is a shadow that avoids trouble. He’ll be working on pure instinct. 

“I can do this,” Mac says earnestly. “Do you trust me?”

Jack nods. He does trust Mac to be able to get the job done. But he also trusts the kid to sacrifice himself if he thinks that’s the only way to solve the problem, and that, he can’t accept. 

“You be careful, kiddo.” Jack says. “If you get in trouble, you get out. I do not want you in there with that monster, you hear me?”

“Someone else is.” Mac says. Jack can hear the pain in his voice.  _ He knows exactly what that agent is going through.  _

“Yeah, but you can’t help him if you get yourself caught too.” Jack turns Mac gently so he’s looking into the kid’s wide, sad blue eyes. “Mac, I know this is hitting close to home. I know you want to do everything in your power to get that kid back. But do not let that make you sloppy.” He brushes a loose strand of hair off Mac’s forehead. “I know you can get him out and save yourself. I believe in you. I just don’t want you to stop believing in yourself, and think you’ve run out of options.” 

Mac nods, then pushes off the ground, scrambling up the crates and pulling himself over the side of the roof.

Desi pulls up a weed from the packed dusty ground and starts tearing the stem into smaller and smaller pieces. Jack paces steadily, careful to stay out of sight of the perimeter guards walking the wall.  _ Come on, Mac. You have to be okay. You can do this. _

* * *

Mac works open the service hatch to the roof and drops down into a small mechanical room. The heat inside is almost more oppressive than the sun beating down outside the building, but Mac turns on his small flashlight and spends a few precious minutes tracking down a toolbox and grabbing a few things he might need. He checks his pockets and makes sure everything he shoved in them in the truck is still there. 

He wishes Jack had come in with him, but his whole plan hinges on being able to move quickly, hide fast, and avoid being seen and raising any alarm. The more people he has with him, the harder that will be. 

The hallways aren’t much better lit than the mechanical room, when Mac steps out. He tucks himself into a corner as a guard paces past, then tosses a cloth-wrapped bolt down the hall behind him when the man unlocks a door at the end of the hall. The bolt wedges between the door and the frame, and as soon as he thinks the man is far enough away, Mac steps out, walks down the hallway, and pushes the door open himself.

The door leads to a flight of stairs that go down, and Mac follows. The top level appeared to be more or less all offices of various leaders in Almasi’s organization. If he had time, he’d have broken into a few, tried to find some more documents. But the important thing right now is grabbing the missing agent and getting him out.

He’s surprised at how low-tech everything here appears to be. There are no cameras, and the doors all appear to be locked with physical keys. It’s strange, given the level of encryption on the drive Riley cracked. Then again, no cameras mean no evidence of what happens here, and a key works to open a door even if there’s an electrical blackout. This place isn’t on the main grid, Riley was able to tell. It’s run off a set of generators somewhere behind the barracks. 

The guard checks a lock two doors from the end of the basement hall. Apparently satisfied, he turns around and starts walking back. Mac ducks into the dusty space below the stairs and prays no spiders, snakes, or scorpions are sharing it with him. 

When the guard walks away, Mac hurries to the door he saw the man check and begins picking the lock. He pulls it open and steps inside, crouching down in front of the figure huddled in a corner. “It’s okay, I’m here to get you out.”

He wonders if this is what it feels like to be Jack. He’s trying to draw on every available memory of how to be calm and reassuring, even as he wants to cry or be sick at the evidence of what’s been done to someone defenseless and alone.

The man’s face is bruised and bloodied, but when he looks up into the faint gleam of Mac’s flashlight it’s clear that this is the missing agent they’ve been hunting for. His back is a mess of deep gashes and angry raised welts, and Mac’s own scars sear in sympathetic pain. This is worse than what Murdoc did to him, by far, but he knows a little of how painful such a punishment is. 

But not all the blood on the man’s ragged pants has come from his back, and Mac swallows a choked sob. He knows exactly what causes the kind of raw fear in the eyes he’s looking into, and he knows the evidence all too well. 

Truth be told he’s known since LeRoux told them about the video he was sent.  _ He looked the way Jack did whenever he brought up Murdoc’s cruel taunts while I was missing. Like he did when we saw the videos he dropped off at the Phoenix. _

He didn’t want to tell Jack that’s the real reason he wanted to be here alone.  _ Jack means well, but when he worries about someone he gets...overzealous. _ That’s the last thing someone traumatized needs. Mac’s learned to work around that, and Jack’s learned to be a little more cautious around him, but still, they’re familiar with each other. Jack’s intimidating if you don’t know him, and Mac wants to make this rescue as painless as possible.  _ If Maher’s anything like me, he’ll balk at pity. _

“It’s alright,” he insists. “My name’s MacGyver, I’m an American agent, and I’m here to rescue you.” It’s probably going to take some time to get past Maher’s defenses and let him know Mac’s a friend, but time is something they don’t have a lot of. He can hear the guard coming back. Mac makes an executive decision, and in the moment he pulls the door closed and lets the lock engage, he’s really, really glad Jack isn’t here. Because there’s no way to open that latch from the inside. 

_ I have a plan, I swear. It’s just…a risky one. _ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few bottles, lining them up on the ground.  _ It’s about fifteen minutes before the last time a video was sent to LeRoux. Since he hasn’t turned over his evidence, I’m sure they’ll send another one. And hopefully they choose the same time. _

When the guards come, Mac’s going to have his home-brew chloroform ready to go. Depending on how many guards there are, he’ll either walk Maher and himself out as a pair of them, or pretend he’s taking the prisoner somewhere for a different interrogation tactic. Once he gets out the doors he’ll rendezvous with Jack and Desi, and they can get out of here. Hopefully before anyone discovers the switch.

While he works, he talks. Partly because it’s habit, but also partly because he wants to reassure Maher that he’s doing something that will help them. And partly because he doesn’t want to think about what happens if his plan goes sideways. 

He bites his lip, trying not to think about what’s going to happen to him if he can’t surprise any guards that come for Maher.  _ I’ll be in the same condition. Or worse, because they won’t need me as leverage against anyone.  _ He’ll probably either be sold or conscripted into Almasi’s army. And neither one is an appealing option.

He tries to force away those thoughts and focus on his work. He trusts himself to be right about that. And whether they send one or two guards, Mac can handle them.  _ Even if Jack isn’t here in person, he still found a way to protect me. _ He’s drilled fighting moves into Mac until he can do them in his sleep. Rather literally, as Jack’s found to his chagrin during more than a few nightmares.

The door opens five minutes before Mac expected the video to take place. There’s only one guard in it. Mac whips out the chloroform soaked piece of his shirt from behind his back as the door swings open and claps it over the guard’s nose. 

He drags the man the rest of the way into the room and pulls on the man’s jacket and pants over his own clothes. They’re too big anyway, and he’s already trying to ignore the memories trying to rear their ugly heads. He doesn’t need to do anything that makes them worse.

“Okay, let’s go.” He helps Maher to his feet, then supports him the best he can as they step into the hall, without looking like he actually cares. 

But there’s a problem. A guard just stepping off the stairs.  _ He probably came to find out what was taking so long.  _ Mac squares his shoulders and tries to look like he’s confident, but the moment the new guard opens his mouth, he knows they’re sunk. 

Mac doesn’t know what the man is asking.  _ That’s not any of the Arabic I know. _ Desi walked him through a few simple phrases he might need before he went in, like how to know if he’s being asked what he’s doing, and how to answer with, depending on what phase of the plan he’s in, ‘repairs’, ‘taking the prisoner for interrogation, special orders’ or a few other plausible excuses. But now he’s in trouble. He doesn’t know what he was just asked. And it’s not like he can ask Desi for a translation on the fly while he’s standing this close to the guy. He’ll be overheard for sure. And it’s equally impossible to ask Maher. 

He decides to chance it on the ‘prisoner transfer’ option. Maybe it’ll sound like he’s in a hurry and can’t be bothered with small talk.

The words don’t feel right rolling off his tongue, and clearly the guard can tell. He moves closer, reaching for Mac’s arm. _ We’re going to get made anyway. _ Mac drives an elbow into the guard’s throat and then yanks a handkerchief out of his pocket, dumps a little more chloroform on it, and drapes it over the guy’s face. 

He and Maher stumble up the stairs, but they’ve barely reached the hall when he hears a shout from behind him.  _ Someone must have been in one of those other rooms down there, and come out and found either the guard in the cell or the man I knocked out. Or one of my guys woke up.  _ Mac curses his terrible luck and ducks into the first unlocked door he can find as three guards materialize and beginning hurrying down the hallway toward the stairs. 

Mac pulls the door closed behind them as quietly as he can. It won’t be good enough to hide them forever, but he can buy some time. And maybe find a way out of here too. 

It looks like they’ve chosen some sort of combination supply room/pantry as a hideout. Mac grins. Along with the stuff he shoved in his pockets in the truck, he’s got more than enough ingredients for a diversion. 

_ With Jack, I’ve gotten a little better at cooking, but I’m still a whole lot better at whipping up things that go boom. _ Mac pulls a bag marked with what he really hopes is Arabic for sugar off the shelf. He slices it open and dumps a little in his hand.  _ Yep. Perfect.  _

_Salt, sugar, weed killer..._ Mac has a plan. _My chili’s going to pack a little more of an explosive punch than Jack’s. Should be a good enough distraction to get us to those doors._ He rolls a mop bucket out of the corner and starts adding some of the ingredients to a pail he places in the bottom. He grabs a cleaning rag from a shelf and drapes it over the top, then opens up one of the car batteries and dumps the acid onto the cloth. _Just enough of a time delay to let us get away before this thing goes off._

Mac slings Maher’s arm over his shoulder as he pulls open the door and pushes the mop bucket to the top of the stairs. “I know you don’t feel like walking, but right now, we gotta run.”

* * *

“Mac, was that an explosion?” Jack asks. The low boom over comms was less than reassuring.

“Guys, I have a problem,” Mac says, his voice nothing more than a breathy whisper. Jack hopes that’s because he’s hiding, not because he’s hurt. There isn’t a pained strain in his voice at least. “I got Maher, but they know someone’s here and they’re locking the place down.”

“Can you get out or do we have to come get you?” Jack asks.

“I can get to my exit but I might need help getting Maher out.” Mac sounds out of breath, like he’s been running hard or dragging something heavy. Jack figures the agent they came for is in no condition to walk far. 

“Got it. You coming out the way you went in?” Jack asks. 

“Yeah. Roof.”

Jack glances from the crates stacked up, to the wall with the guards now running along it. “Des, you wanna cover me while I help the kid out?” They’re all going to be sitting ducks on that roof for any snipers on the wall.

“Sure thing.” Desi reaches into the truck and pulls out a rifle Jack knows she didn’t have when they landed.  _ Guess Mac wasn’t the only one raiding the supply crates.  _

He doesn’t even flinch at the crack of gunfire when he climbs onto the roof and scrambles over to the maintenance hatch. It opens just as he arrives, and Mac, sweaty but grinning the way he always does when he gets to make things blow up, sticks his head out. Mac drags himself onto the roof, rolling away from the opening but staying low. Clearly he knows they’ve got to worry about the wall guards. Although Desi’s shooting has died down, so maybe not anymore.

Jack leans down into the hole, reaching for the bruised and bloodied wrists of the man still on the ladder. “Hey, I’m a friend of Mac’s,” He says, noticing the way the guy tenses when he grabs on. “We’re just getting you out of here.”

When they meet Desi, she’s frowning. “They gave up trying to take us from the wall, but there’s over twenty guards at the gate now. They know we can’t just climb over without being seen, and they’re counting on us eventually making a run for it. They’re probably about to start a building by building search, and they’re definitely not going to let anything through without a thorough inspection. 

“Which means we’re not getting out the same way we got in,” Jack says, glancing down at the badge clipped to his coat. “Guess we’re gonna need to improvise.”

Desi grins. “I’ve got a plan already. He’s got a Syrian tank over there. I know how to drive that.” She points to a row of vehicles, mostly jeeps with the exception of the tank, parked along the wall. “It’s a long story.”

“I don’t plan on asking right now,” Jack says. “As long as you can, that’s our out.” 

A few minutes later, Desi’s settled in the drivers’ seat and the others are crowded in around her. When the engine turns over with a deep growl, Desi grins. “Told you.”

“Okay, but we still need to get out of here. Gloat later,” Jack says, only half-joking. 

“There’s a whole lot of problems between us and that gate,” Mac says. “Including some guys with anti-tank weapons.”

“So we make our own door.” Desi flips some switches and pulls some levers, and the gun turret swivels so it’s pointing at the wall. She fires, and the old mud-brick explodes in a shower of dust. The tank rumbles forward, smashing through what’s left of the wall, out into the desert.

“Whooooo!” Jack yells, pumping his fist in the air. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” 

“Of course you have,” Desi says. “And you tease Mac about liking blowing things up.” 

Jack can hear the roar of some of the jeeps starting behind them, then the loud crunch as one of them hits the end of the tow cable Mac threaded through all the wheels.  _ That ought to stop them for a while.  _

Unfortunately, from the sound of things, that was far from the only set of vehicles in the compound. A few minutes later, Jack hears more engines whining. 

Maher’s eyes are wide and frightened. “We’re never going to outrun them.”

“Well,  _ we  _ don’t have to.” Desi says. “Riley, how far are we from the airfield where Almasi stores his planes?”

A few minutes later the tank pulls onto the runway. Desi slows it down and opens the top hatch. “Okay, everyone out.” They hop off, Desi last, after she’s turned the speed back up. Jack can see what she’s doing, sending it straight for the line of planes and helicopters resting along the runway. It’ll give them enough time to get the chopper they’ll take off the ground, but it’ll pretty effectively stop any pursuit. 

Jack leads the way to a helicopter at the end of the row, listening to the crunch and whoosh of flames as the tank smashes through nose after nose of the lined up planes. He climbs in the helicopter and settles in. Desi might be able to run a tank, but anything that flies is practically Jack’s second home. He fires up the engine, ignoring how close the tank and the explosions are now. He’s cut it closer.  _ Myanmar. Shanghai. Quito. _

The chopper lifts off just as three jeeps reach the airfield gate. Jack grins at the sight of the men leveling their guns and then shaking their heads as the chopper flies out of range. 

“Yeah baby, home free now…” Jack says, turning around, and then freezing. Mac’s eyes are wide, and Desi’s working frantically checking their asset over. He’s laying on the back seat, pale and still.

“What happened?” Jack asks.

“He just…fell over.” Mac sounds about two seconds from hyperventilating and passing out himself. 

Desi looks up, frowning but not looking terribly alarmed. “He’s breathing steady and his pulse is a little weak but it’s regular. I think our friend here just might never have been this far off the ground before.” 

“Well, let’s get him back on solid ground ASAP,” Jack says. “Riley? We’ve got the package in hand and we’re coming in.” 

* * *

SAFE HOUSE

SAM HAS A SCARY AMOUNT OF CONNECTIONS

Riley watches LeRoux carefully dabbing a cool rag against their rescued agent’s forehead and tries not to think of how much it reminds her of the way she woke up after her own Cairo disaster.

Mac steps up behind her, and she can tell he’s walking more loudly than strictly necessary. She isn’t sure if it’s for her benefit or Maher’s. Maybe both. 

“You okay?” She asks. She doesn’t know all of what happened in the compound. Jack didn’t go in with Mac, and that worries her a little. She’d never say it out loud to Mac, but she was pacing and chewing her nails the whole time he and Jack were separated.  _ In a place like that… _ she knows Mac is fully capable of defending himself, and that he had a plan. But the fact remains that separating him and Jack is usually one of the worst things you can do.

She wonders if Mac had another motive behind asking Jack to stay outside.  _ He knew what had probably happened. I saw it in his eyes as soon as LeRoux talked about the video he got.  _ Mac was likely planning on introducing one friendly face at a time. And Jack might be a big pushover papa bear, but…he does look intimidating. Mac was definitely afraid of him when they first met.  _ He didn’t want the same thing to happen when they were trying to pull off a rescue. _

Riley doesn’t blame Mac for making that decision.  _ It’s easy to forget Jack is scary. I would have. _ But then again, she’s not living with the trauma Mac is. The trauma that’s literally changed the way he looks at the world around him.  _ He was the best person we could have sent in for this. _

“I’m fine.” Mac’s shuffling his foot over the packed-earth floor, toe pushing a small rug’s edge and flattening it out. “How’s he?”

“Well, he’ll be better when we can get him to a hospital, but we have to wait for Sam’s contact to get here with transport. Almasi’s men are combing the streets.” Riley shrugs. “They don’t know what you look like, but they do know what he does. And they’ll be looking for any medical vehicles and checking every hospital. Thankfully, Sam’s friend’s ambulance is disguised as a bakery truck, and there’s a medical center in Aswan we can take him to. It’ll be a drive, but it’s also one I know hasn’t been taking any cut of Almasi’s profits, thanks to the paper trail on that drive.”

Mac nods. 

“I also know who’s in on the take in the government. I’m going to take the drive to someone we know is clean, as soon as he’s safely on his way to medical help.” She puts an arm around Mac’s shoulder. “You did really well today.”

Mac nods again, looking down at the floor. “I…I kind of wish we could stay.”

Riley doesn’t press him, just waits.

“After…” Mac swallows. “It’s hard to find people to talk to. People who will understand.” 

Riley leans against the wall. _ He’s right. And for him it’s even harder, because he couldn’t go to a normal support group, thanks to his job. If he could even find one for male survivors. _ Mac’s been stuck having to bottle most of his pain up and hide it away. She knows the Phoenix counselors have been helping, as has being able to talk to Sam and Desi, but Mac’s always going to be cut off from some of the other things that might really help. And he doesn’t want to watch that happen to someone else.

“There are such things as video chats,” Riley says. She knows it’s a weak attempt to help, but she manages to get a connection up to rural Nigeria so Mac can show Nasha’s class science experiments he does in the Phoenix labs. She can definitely manage an encrypted stream into Cairo. 

Mac nods. “If he wants to…I’d like to.” 

Riley smiles.

She looks up at the sound of footsteps. LeRoux is standing in the entrance to the door. “He’s awake, and he’s asking for the man who rescued him. MacGyver.”

Mac bites his lip and then steps into the room.

Riley glances up at LeRoux. “Coffee?” She asks, moving toward the kitchen. LeRoux nods and follows her.  _ We’ll give them some peace and quiet. _ She has no idea what Mac’s going to say, but she does know he’d rather this stayed private. 

Jack and Desi are sparring lightly downstairs, and Riley knows both of them are working off their own stress. Jack grabs Desi’s leg when she goes for a high kick and lays her flat out on the floor. 

“I told you, you like kicks too much. That’s gonna get you in trouble someday,” Jack says teasingly as he helps her back to her feet. 

“You’re the only one who knows to expect them,” Desi retorts. “Most guys are watching my hands and don’t know what hit them till they’re on the ground.”

“She has a fair point,” Riley says, pouring herself and LeRoux mugs of coffee. She leans on the counter and flips the deceptively innocuous flashdrive through her fingers.  _ So much pain for something so small. _ She’s well aware how much information one of these can contain, and what this one does, but there’s still something that’s always going to feel anticlimactic. 

She hears footsteps, and Mac appears at the top of the stairs. “He says there’s something he has to tell us.”

Riley walks up behind LeRoux. Jack, Bozer, and Desi hang back, but Sam follows after a moment. Riley’s glad. Sam’s good at reading people and understanding even the most muddled ramblings. 

LeRoux sits down beside the bed, taking Maher’s hand in his. “Hey kid, it’s going to be alright. Just hang tight, we’ve got people on the way. You’re going to be fine.” She can hear the desperation in his voice.  _ He probably thinks the kid doesn’t think he’ll pull through and wants to say goodbye. _

The bruised fingers squeeze tight around the darker ones holding them. “Not...if he does what he’s planning on. No one...will be safe here.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks softly, voice low. 

Her voice doesn’t seem to break the flow of the agent’s thought at all. “Almasi. He has…” Maher cuts off with a cough and a wince. “He has a nuclear warhead.” He swallows thickly, and LeRoux helps him sit up enough to drink a few sips of water. “I heard...guards talking. Saying things were almost ready.” He falls back, clearly exhausted from speaking. 

Sam taps Riley and Mac on the shoulders and leads them both out into the hall. Her face is a mask of worry and dread. “That’s the last step of his plan.” Cage says. “A nuclear strike is just the thing to start the dominoes falling.” 

* * *

Jack doesn’t like the looks on the faces of his team members coming down the stairs. When Sam tells him about the warhead, he isn’t surprised.  _ They all looked like they heard the world was ending. And if Almasi pisses off the right countries, well...they might not be too far off the mark. _

Riley’s already sitting down at her computer, typing frantically. “I still have sat feed of the compound.”

“And since Maher said it was going to happen soon...” Mac leans over her shoulder, watching the feed spool forward rapidly, showing the tank smashing out of the compound, the explosions at the airfield and the chopper taking off. But what shows up next is exactly what Jack was afraid of. 

Riley taps the screen. “That’s it. A large covered transport truck left the compound, heading east, thirty minutes ago.”

Bozer frowns. “We’ll never catch up to them.” 

“Yeah we will.” Jack says. “I’m just gonna need some more fuel for that chopper we borrowed.”

Twenty minutes later they’re in the air, headed in the direction of the truck Riley’s still tracking. Sam’s coordinating from the safehouse with Bozer while they wait for their medevac for the injured agent, and Mac, Desi, and Riley are sitting in the back seat of the chopper. Desi’s checking her gun, Mac’s bending a paperclip into the shape of a radiation hazard warning, and Riley’s watching real time sat feed from her tablet. They’re gaining ground, but the truck is too close to the Libyan border for Jack’s liking.  _ They could be setting up to launch at any time.  _ He’s not sure what kind of nuke exactly they have in the truck, Maher wasn’t able to get specifics and even if he had, he’d probably have been too out of it to relay them. Jack didn’t like the look of the fever the kid was spiking by the time they left. 

_ If it’s sophisticated and powerful enough, they won’t need to be very close to their target at all.  _

“So, how do we want to play this when we get there? Like the Como virus, San Francisco?” Riley asks.

“Probably the best way,” Jack says. “I’ll get you over the truck, and Riley, Desi, you can take out any guards while Mac disables the nuke.” 

Mac nods, fidgeting with the seat belt. Jack knows the kid doesn’t like the idea of just dropping out of the chopper any more than he did when they first met. But this is their best option. 

“Okay, we should have visual in...five minutes and counting,” Riley says. “Stay on the heading we’re on and we’ll be right over him in seven.”

Jack nods. The chopper continues to skim the sandy waste, flying low enough to avoid getting caught on radar. They don’t have time to explain the dicey situation to Egyptian authorities that may or may not be in Almasi’s pocket. 

“Okay, I see it,” Jack says, picking out the shape of the canvas-backed truck, a slightly darker patch against the sand. The camouflage is good, but Jack knows what to look for. “Everyone get ready to drop.” 

Desi closes her hand around her gun, and Mac sets the paperclip he’s been playing with down on the seat. Riley closes her rig and checks the straps on her kevlar vest. “Ready to drop,” She says, turning to face out the door of the chopper.

Suddenly, comms crackle to life. “Guys, wait. That’s a decoy truck,” Sam says. “The second they get inside it’s going to blow and take you all with it.”

“Are you sure?”

There’s something stiff but certain in Sam’s voice. “I’m willing to bet my life on it. And yours. Turn around and come back, he’s got the real nuke at the compound and he’s going to launch it from there.”

“I hope you’re right.” Jack says. “I’ll roll the dice with you. We’re comin’ back.” 

He banks the chopper hard and they turn back.

The airstrip outside the compound is still a charred ruin, covered with the smoking remnants of the planes Desi’s tank took out, and the tank itself, ground to a halt on the side of the runway. Jack bypasses it and flies directly to the compound.  _ We don’t have time for a stealth entrance. _

The place is eerily empty. There’s no people, and almost no vehicles, aside from a couple of the trucks that have been stripped of their canvas, one with its hood open and another that’s sitting lopsided, probably on account of a bad tire. If Jack hadn’t seen the place humming with activity a few hours before, Jack would have thought this site had been abandoned for years. The only sound is the hum of the generators still running, and the swish of the helicopter blades as Jack hovers them over the spot where the men were marching earlier. “Riley?”

“While we were distracted tailing that truck, a whole convoy loaded up and went north,” Riley says. “They’ve already all loaded onto a huge transport freighter in the Mediterranean and they’re sailing east.” 

“Damn it!” Jack says. “They played us. You think they have the nuke with them?”

“No.” Mac says.

“You sure?” Desi asks. 

“Yeah, because that’s it.” Mac points down into the compound. There’s a truck trailer parked behind a low building, with something on it, barely visible under the sheet-metal overhang of a roof. Jack thinks he remembers seeing stacks of crates there earlier. 

Jack lands the chopper, and all of them jump out, ducking the propwash and running toward the flatbed trailer where the missile is resting. 

Mac frowns as he scrambles up onto the trailer. “It’s smaller than I thought. Doesn’t have much range...he’s going to hit Cairo. That’s why they all left. This place is going to become uninhabitable.”

Mac looks at the clock and then the warhead.

“This would take me at least twenty minutes to disarm.” Jack glances at the timer.  _ Three minutes and eighteen seconds.  _

“We’re too late!” Riley says.

“No we’re not.” Mac is already running toward one of the parked trucks, one Jack can see has a flat tire. 

“The hell is he doing?” Desi asks. Then it becomes all too clear as the truck growls to life and lumbers awkwardly toward the generators. Jack barely has time to think that his kid is the craziest person he knows before the truck plows through the side of both generators. The machines whine to a halt, and the truck does too, the front bumper snagged by torn metal and the radiator hissing.

Jack runs over and helps a rather dazed-looking Mac out of the truck, pulling him away just before truck and generators go up in a fireball. 

Both of them hit the sand, the wave of scorching heat billowing out over them. Jack covers Mac the best he can with his own body as shrapnel flies over them, littering the sand. Mac squirms underneath him, but Jack keeps the kid down until a second explosion dies off.  _ Damn. _

“Mac!” He shouts, feeling his ears ringing from the explosion. “What the hell were you doing?”

“The whole compound was powered by generators. Including the systems that were going to launch that warhead.” Mac shrugs. “Ah, ouch.” He rubs his shoulder and the back of his neck.  _ Definitely acquired some whiplash there.  _

“What did you think was going to happen driving a truck into two industrial generators?” Jack asks. “That’s my kinda plan, dude.”

“Guess you’re rubbing off on me.” 

“Dude, could you not have just...I don’t know, unplugged the launching systems?” Jack asks, reaching out a hand to help Mac to his feet. 

“I...I probably could have.” Mac frowns. “I didn’t think of that.”

“You. Didn’t think of something. I’m telling you, it’s the Cairo Curse, my man.” Jack sighs. “I am so ready to get out of this city.” 

* * *

THE PHOENIX JET

Mac leans back in his chair, taking a deep, shaky breath. 

He knows he took a lot of risks today. And that he’s going to hear about it. But the worst part is, he can’t even really explain why he did what he did back there.  _ You should have been able to think of a solution that wasn’t so drastic. If Jack had gotten hurt or worse protecting you… _

Jack wouldn’t like him thinking that way. He knows that. But still, he put his team in danger because he couldn’t come up with a simpler, less dangerous plan. 

What really frightens him is that this could easily happen again.  _ What if the brain damage is progressing? What if I’m not as good at planning as I used to be? _ Maybe he should step back from the field altogether.  _ Maybe everyone would be safer if I did. _

He swallows back the tears flooding his eyes and threatening to trickle down his cheeks at the thought.  _ If it’s what’s best for everyone, I shouldn’t be upset. _

Jack appears in front of him, and Mac blinks rapidly.  _ Don’t cry. _ He looks down at the table, then up at Jack. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Jack asks. He’s holding two water bottles, and he cracks one open and slides it across the table to Mac. “I haven’t seen you drink anything since we got food at that street vendor. If you don’t finish that you’ll probably have a dehydration headache tomorrow. Trust me, the desert’s tricky. Learned that in Texas a long time before they sent me to the Sandbox.” 

He takes a sip of his own bottle, and Mac follows suit. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until the cool water hit his tongue. He forces himself not to gulp the whole bottle down, that would be just as bad. 

Jack has a bandage on his shoulder, and the sight of it reminds Mac that it’s his fault a piece of shrapnel caught him. He looks down at the table, flipping a paperclip through his fingers. “I should have thought of something better than the truck.”

“If everyone was held responsible for bad decisions made while under stress and dehydrated I’d be in jail right now,” Jack says. “Did I ever tell you about the time I set the house siding on fire because I was so tired of pulling weeds and figured it would be faster to just burn them?”

“Nope.”

“Probably because I was afraid of giving you ideas.” Jack shrugs. “Trust me, you are not the first person I’ve seen do something really strange because they weren’t functioning at full capacity. Happened all the time in the Sandbox.” 

Mac licks his dry lips and takes another small sip. 

“You were freaking out, there was barely any time left on that clock, and your brain likes elaborate plans. I don’t blame you at all for what happened out there.” Jack says gently. “I just wish your default setting wasn’t seeing yourself as expendable.”

“Well, if the missile had gone off we’d probably all have been close enough to the blast that it would have been fatal, at least eventually,” Mac says, but there’s no real argument in his voice. He appreciates Jack’s reassurance, but also Jack isn’t  _ him. _ Jack doesn’t know what it’s like to live with the persistent fear that one day his brain will just stop working the way it’s supposed to. Knowing that if it happens on an op it could be deadly for all of them. 

He bites his lip. “Maybe I should leave the field.”

“Uh...that’s a little outta left field, man. Care to explain?”

“I just...I’m scared that next time I make a mistake I’ll hurt one of you badly. Maybe even get you killed.”

“Mac, all of us live with that thought. I know I do. I’m scared to death I’m not gonna be good enough to save you or Riley or Bozer next time. But...I also trust the rest of my team to pick up where I leave off.”

“It’s just...what if something happens and…” Mac gulps. “What if I hit my head again and things get really, really bad? And this time I can’t shake it? And everyone’s counting on me?”

“Mac, I could keel over this minute of a heart attack, just like Pops. I know it runs in my family. He was tested over and over and there was never an indication it was gonna happen like that. All he had was reasonably high blood pressure, and I’ve had the same thing for years now.” Jack reaches across the table for Mac’s hand. “Anything can take us down in the field. But...hear me out, okay? I am still willing to go out there because I trust that I have trained you and Riley and Bozer to defend yourselves. I would rather be there to do it, but if I’m not, I trust you. And now Desi’s here, too. Teams are about more than just having support, Mac. They’re about other people being able to pick up where you leave off. And none of us can be you, but we’ve hung out with you for a while. And trust me when I say that if that ever happens, we will try to find a way to finish what you started. It won’t be your fault. Ever.”

Mac nods, slowly.  _ Maybe I can’t ever be sure I’ll be okay. But at least I know that they have my back. _

* * *

PHOENIX

IF JACK NEVER SEES CAIRO AGAIN IT WILL BE TOO SOON

Jack doesn’t like what Cairo does to his kids. He could have lost Mac out there, but even worse was hearing what Mac is afraid of.  _ He still looks at himself as if his value comes from what he does. What he’s capable of. _ No matter what the future holds, no matter if his condition improves or worsens (medical’s saying it can go either way at this point, it’s just a waiting game, and that’s likely going to follow the poor kid the rest of his life), Jack will be there for him, and so will their strange little family. 

“There’s nothing but good news to report,” Patty says when they all walk into the War Room. “Thanks to Riley’s sat tracking, Darius Almasi’s ship was overtaken and he and his men were arrested. The people on that ship who had been forcibly conscripted have been freed, and some of them are already being reunited with their families thanks to the intel Riley handed over to the government.”

“That’s good to hear,” Riley says. She taps a toe on the carpet. “What about LeRoux and Maher?”

“I got word from Cage’s contact in Aswan only an hour ago. Maher is expected to make a full recovery, although they’re still running some tests.”

There’s a collective sigh of relief from the room. 

“They’ll also have jobs again as soon as Maher is released from the hospital. With the intel the government was given, a large branch of their intelligence network was implicated. Not surprising given that Almasi was trying to protect his illegal activities. And while some of the officials who weren’t on his take still chose to look the other way, almost getting blown off the face of the earth by his missile attack kind of changed their minds.” She shrugs. “He’s not protected by anyone any longer.” Patty smiles. “And the Horus agency has been re-sanctioned by the government to fill the gap left behind by ousting the corrupt officials. They’re going to be helping to rebuild the intelligence network from the ground up.”

“That’s great.” Mac says softly. Jack knows the kid’s still reeling from everything, this op took a toll on him emotionally, physically, and mentally. He steps a little closer and puts an arm over Mac's shoulder, and Mac leans into him. 

“Although no one can officially recognize your work, your operation took down the biggest human trafficking ring in North Africa, stopped a major terrorist plot, and took down over two dozen corrupt officials in the Egyptian government,” Patty says. “This mission was a remarkable success, and I’m proud of all of you.”

“She’s gettin’ sappy,” Jack whispers to Riley. “Something’s up.”

“The CIA is officially relinquishing all claims to absorb the Phoenix Foundation, and the agency has moved from probation status to fully operational,” Patty adds. “Which brings me to my next, and my last, announcement.”

Jack feels the room go dead silent.  _ What does that even mean? _

“I’m officially retiring from clandestine operations,” Patty says. “Now that the agency has been re-sanctioned, I’ll be transferring command to Director Webber. Effective tomorrow morning, 0900, Matty Webber, you will be the new Oversight of the Phoenix.” 

Jack suddenly gets it. She stuck around just long enough that if they screwed up again and lost what little leash the CIA was giving them, she’d take the blame. Now, she no longer has to be that buffer. She’s played her cards well. And Jack knows that a promise of retirement was one of them.  _ She must have asked for enough time to get Phoenix back on its feet. But she took responsibility for what happened with Kovacs and agreed to step down.  _

“I’d be honored to accept,” Matty says, smiling. 

“I can finally retire somewhere without a cell signal.” Patty says. “Dream come true.”

“She’ll be back in two weeks checking in on us,” Jack whispers to Mac. 

“I heard that, Dalton.” Patty gives him a glare that’s anything but sharp. “Agent Cage, I would like to formally offer you the position of Phoenix Director.”

“I would be honored to accept.”

“And with that, I’m closing my last official mission with the Phoenix.” Patty sets down her tablet and smiles. “It’s been an honor and a privilege. I trust all of you to carry on what we started here, to uphold everything the Phoenix stands for.”

There’s a series of solemn nods. And then Patty walks up to Mac and puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’d like to thank you personally, Mac, for reminding me why we do what we do. I’m just a jaded old soldier,” She says with a chuckle. “But you reminded me that sometimes it’s possible for people to do the right think because it’s the right thing to do.” Her voice is gentle. “Truth be told, I didn’t make the Phoenix what it is today. You did. All of you did,” She says, looking around. “So I can walk away without worrying that it’s going to fall apart. Because I’m not the important part of it.”

“Sure you are,” Jack says, swallowing down a lump in his throat. “Who else would have kept us from being court martialed for half a dozen international incidents a month?”

Patty shakes her head. “Matty, I don’t envy you the job. But I know you’ll do it well. You know this agency and you know these people, and you care about them.”

Matty nods. “I expected coming to the Phoenix to be a temporary career move. But...they’ve grown on me.” She smiles. “I’ll be glad to keep protecting them just like I have in the past.” She glances at Cage. “And I know you are more than capable of excelling as Director.” 

“I’m afraid this means my strike team is down a vital member,” Riley says. “So it looks like I’m back with you guys on a permanent basis.” She shoves Bozer’s shoulder, and he gives her a mock-offended look.

“Tough luck, kid,” Jack says, grinning. “Good to have you back, Ri.” 

Somewhere between then and Matty clearing her throat to ask for action reports on her desk at 0900 sharp tomorrow, Jack realizes that Patty has vanished.  _ She never was much for long goodbyes. _ He’s surprised she stayed as long as she did. 

“Okay, who’s up for pizza and beers at Mac’s?” He asks. “I think we’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

“Pizza and beers? For this? Really, Dalton?” Matty asks. “I was thinking this calls for some grilled steaks.” She grins. “I’m buying supplies.”

“Are you willing to buy a new grill? Because Mac destroyed the last one while I was in Hawaii,” Jack says. “He sent me pictures.”

“I didn’t destroy it…” Mac says, then trails off.

“Just because there is still a standing pile of twisted metal...what is your critera for destroy, dude? Vaporization?”

“I could probably fix it…”

Jack shakes his head. 

“Actually there’s a grill sitting in my garage that hasn’t been used in years,” Matty says. Her eyes look a little sad and haunted.  _ It was probably Ethan’s. _ “So yes, I’ll bring the grill.”

* * *

MAC’S HOUSE

THIS IS DEFINITELY A ‘MATTY AND SAM GOT PROMOTED’ KIND OF PARTY

Between Bozer, Desi, and Sam cooking things, there’s nothing short of a feast laid out on the table on Mac’s deck. Jack’s eaten more than he did when they were in Hawaii. He’s stuffed to the point that if he eats one more home-made french fry he might explode, but he also isn’t planning on going anywhere for a while. He and Mac both have a couple days of medically mandated time off, although Jack expects Matty’s going to fill them with his paperwork backlog.  _ Patty kept putting off making me actually catch up. _ Matty, he has no doubt, will take a gleeful delight in enforcing the ‘forty eight hour’ rule for how long agents who aren’t majorly incapacitated have to file action reports after ops.

Diane was delighted to hear about the promotions, although she did say she’s going to miss Patty. Jack’s pretty sure that won’t be the case for long.  _ I’d be surprised if she totally vanished from our lives. _ He thinks the only reason she wasn’t here tonight is that she didn’t want to cry in front of everyone.  _ She’s a big softy at heart. _

But there is someone else who doesn’t look like they’re fully enjoying their evening. One of the guests of honor no less. Jack leaves Riley and Mac arguing the finer points of ping-pong strategy, trying to figure out how they were beaten by Desi and Bozer, and walks over to Cage. 

“Sam?” Jack asks. She’s leaning on the deck railing, staring out at the city below. “What’s the matter, the thought of responsibility crashing in?”

Jack realizes he hit too close to home when there’s no laugh, just a sad sigh. “More than you know. What happened out there...Almasi didn’t think this plan up on his own.”

“I mean, I don’t plan on giving the guy more credit than he’s due, but…”

“It’s not that he couldn’t come up with it. I just know he didn’t, because I’ve seen this exact plan before. It’s how I knew the truck was a decoy to take out anyone trying to stop the nuke.” Jack shivers a little.  _ Mac and Riley and Desi almost died. If she hadn’t realized that… _

“So someone was feeding him a plan, pulling his puppet strings?” Jack asks. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen something like that. He tries not to think about James and Kovacs. 

"Someone a whole lot like me. Jack, this is strategy I set up to be used by Scorpion's military contract division. Spearhead."

“I thought we ripped Scorpion out by the roots.”

“We didn’t get everyone. And Spearhead branched out long before that. Became their own private military force, selling their miniature army to the highest bidder, making a war if there wasn’t one to profit off of.” There’s a cold, determined glitter in her eyes. “I know who their leader was. And I’m going to find him. Because if anyone was behind this plan, it has to be him.” 

Jack nods. “Well, we’re with you. Director.” 

* * *

MAC’S HOUSE

FOR NOW, ANYWAY

Mac jolts upright, kicking the blankets away from his legs in a panic. He rubs his hands up and down his calves, trying to shake the feeling of a grip on them dragging him down into a dark hole. He shivers. The nightmares haven’t been this bad in a while, but going back in the field definitely made them come back with a vengeance.

He reaches for the glass of water on the table beside the bed, but there’s only one small sip in the bottom. Jack was right, dehydration hangs on a while. 

He climbs out of bed and steps carefully into the hall, hoping to avoid the squeaky floorboard. He almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of a figure in something loose and white standing in the middle of the hall.

“Mac?”

It’s just Diane. Now that Mac’s eyes are adjusting a little better, he can see Jack behind her, his dark t-shirt and sweatpants blend into the shadows better. 

“You okay, kid?” Jack asks. “We were just gonna come in and wake you up.”

Mac scuffs a foot on the floorboards. “Sorry I woke  _ you _ up.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for that.” Diane says. “I know you can’t tell me what happened in Egypt, but…if you need to talk about things that aren’t classified, I’m here.”

He walks into the kitchen and fills his glass, sitting down at the table and taking a few small sips. He isn’t sure he wants to have this conversation right now, but it’s also been tough not to talk about it since he saw Jack again.  _ I just need to put all the cards on the table. _

“I’ve been looking at some apartments,” He says shakily, aware that this is coming out of left field. “Riley and I are thinking about maybe getting one together now, since her lease ran out.” She’s been staying in a Phoenix apartment the past couple weeks while she works out where to go from here.  _ Not that she’s been home much with the other ops she was running.  _

“Mac, you’re not an inconvenience. If you want to move out that’s fine, but you shouldn’t feel like you need to because you’re bothering us.” Diane says softly. “I’m no stranger to nightmares.”

“Yeah, but...you’re married now. I thought you might want space.” 

“This will always be your home,” Diane says softly. Mac leans into her, and it feels right. Like a mother’s gentle kindness. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into living here if you really want to have your own place, or if you and Riley have plans. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave on account of us. We’re your family, and we love you just the way you are. You’re not going to be a problem or an annoyance. You stay here as long as you want.”


	2. Water+(C3H3NaO2)n+Shovel+Mac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A week late but here it is!

###  402-Water+(C3H3NaO2)n+Shovel+Mac

WEATHERS’S GARAGE

PROBABLY NOT THE LAST TIME THEY’RE GOING TO HAVE TO COME HERE

“And…” Jack closes the hood carefully, stepping back to admire the refurbished GTO with a smile. “She’s done.” 

“Better find out if she runs before you say that, Jack,” Mr. Weathers chuckles, a grin on his face as he wheels himself out of his office to come over and see the finished car in the bay. “Like I always told Mac here, it’s not the body that gets the car down the road, it’s the engine.” 

Jack has liked Mr. Weathers from the moment he met the guy. Mac’s former boss is a good-natured, kindly Vietnam vet with a smile for everyone who comes through his doors and a particular soft spot for Mac. 

“Thanks for the use of the garage bay,” Mac says, shaking Weathers’s hand with a grin. 

“Any time, kid,” Weathers says. “You and your dad stop by anytime. And your sister’s more than welcome too.” Riley’s come by a few times; she’s helping Abina and her college friends move to a new apartment this weekend, or she’d be here to watch today. 

“You know, we’re gonna take you up on that,” Jack says. “Okay, Mac, you ready to take her for a spin?” He tosses the keys across the hood and Mac catches them, wide eyed and startled. 

“You want me to…”

“Yeah. I do.” Jack slides in the passenger seat to prove his point. 

Mac steps in and turns the engine over, listening carefully out the open window. So far, Jack can’t hear anything wrong, and apparently neither can Mac, because he puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the garage. Mr. Weathers waves as Mac spins the car around a  _ little _ more enthusiastically than necessary and pulls out of the lot. 

“Put her through her paces, Mac,” Jack says, leaning back in the seat and watching the city pass around him. It’s not too often he’s the one on this side of the car. 

“And if we get arrested?” Mac asks, but he doesn’t look worried, he looks slightly amused and a little mischievous too.

“Ah, Cage’ll think of some way to argue us out of it.”

“You really want to start off our tenure with a new director by pissing  _ her _ off?”

“Gotta keep the tradition alive.” Jack says with a chuckle. Mac grins and floors the accelerator, whipping the GTO in and out of lanes with the kind of precision Jack is proud to have instilled. 

“Maybe I shoulda reconsidered letting you behind the wheel. I don’t think I’m gonna get my car back,” Jack says with a laugh. Mac is clearly having the time of his life. “I guess I’d rather see you driving this than that block of scrap masquerading as a functioning automobile.”

“Hey, my Toyata is fine. It handles okay.” Mac shrugs. “Desi and I lost a tail in Colorado after I finished my lecture at the Colorado School of Mines.” He slips into a gap between a minivan and a pickup. 

“I saw that one.” Jack says. “Diane and I caught it live-streamed.” He’d had Mac’s schedule of lectures before they left for Hawaii, and when possible they tried to watch them live. Steve had teased Jack about becoming a nerd in his old age, but he’d gotten sucked into Mac’s presentations too whenever they watched them at the house. There’s something about the way Mac shares information that’s almost preternaturally engaging. He makes things understandable, and more than that he makes them fun. 

He was clearly having the time of his life in that classroom, and Jack would feel guilty that the kid doesn’t get to live in that world if he didn’t see the same delight on Mac’s face right  _ now,  _ and on every one of their missions at some point. Mac is happy doing his crazy genius thing wherever he is, whether that’s teaching in a classroom or just showing Jack and Riley and Bozer how he’s going to make kitchen supplies into a bomb.

Jack’s phone rings, and he pulls it out. “Hey, Sam.” 

“We just got handed a big op. You and Mac need to wrap up your little joyride and come on in.”

“How’d you know…”

“Security scans pinged a GTO doing twenty over the speed limit on a few traffic cams.”

“Oh.”

* * *

THE PHOENIX INSTITUTE FOR GLOBAL SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH

IT’S EASIER TO JUST KEEP SAYING PHOENIX

Sam watches her team file in and tries to adjust to her Director voice and not her teammate voice. It’s easy to work with the other field teams. Markson’s team, the one Eileen is temporarily attached to while their sniper recovers from a shoulder shot, just got sent to Myanmar an hour ago, and Sam had no trouble maintaining a professional front with them. But she was part of Jack’s team for years, and the urge to be one of them is still strong. 

She wants to tease Jack, hug Riley, inspect Mac’s newest paperclip creation, ask Bozer if’s he’s planned the next Oscars winner yet, and continue that prank war with Desi. But she can’t. Not now at least. She’s sure eventually she’ll find the balance that allows her to command respect but still interact with her team in a personal and friendly way.  _ Patty had it, Matty had it. _ It took time, though, to see it from Matty.  _ She was like me, just starting out in command of an agency. _

She focuses on pulling up the dossier for this op, including the schematics of the weapon. Judging by the low mumble from Mac’s direction, just seeing the paperwork is enough to impress on him the seriousness of the situation. 

“We have a top level clearance op,” Cage says. “Meet the Hades X1. Aptly named. This is an experimental bioweapon, featuring a next-gen version of botulinum toxin. Just a gram of this stuff could wipe out the entire population of any major city within a matter of days.”

“Wait, I thought that was the stuff people get injected into their faces,” Bozer says. 

Riley rolls her eyes.

“Guys, as much as I would love to hear all the banter about this, I need you to focus.” Sam says, forcing herself to tune out the beginning of Mac’s science ramble and Jack’s commentary on the ridiculousness of beauty fads.  _ How did Matty do this? _ She can keep control of almost any room, but…she just wants to let these people be themselves. She flicks to the next item in the dossier before she can regret forcing them to move on.

“The Hades just popped up for sale in California. We know who the broker is, and best of all, we know one very important detail. Who’s buying.” 

“I hate to disagree with you, but I’ve been running that name since you emailed me the briefing and I’ve got nothing,” Riley says. “Even I can’t find this Desmond Kane. He’s a ghost.”

“Desmond Kane is an alias,” Cage says. “And I happen to know the man who liked using it. His real name, or at least it’s real as far as I’m aware, is Russel Taylor.” 

“As in Spearhead Operations, soldier of fortune Russ Taylor?” Desi asks. “I never met him in person but we...uh...moved in the same circles for a while.” She frowns. “I heard stories about him. An absolute maniac if you believe them.”

“You should,” Cage says. “Taylor is a megalomaniacal, unhinged narcissist. He was former Scorpion, although his organization detached from the agency long before we took them down. He’s ruthless, cunning, and he has a knack for making people trust them before he stabs them in the back. Very few people have met him in person and walked away to talk about it.” 

“Sounds like a wonderful guy,” Bozer says sarcastically. 

“Well, you’re about to get the chance to meet him. I’ve been tracking him since the Cairo op, and this is the first real lead I’ve gotten that offers us a chance to grab him.” Sam says cooly. “We’ve got a party to crash.” 

* * *

SYDNEY

2009

_ The Risegen building is supposedly the most secure biolab on the planet. That doesn’t mean much to the two people currently sprinting down a hall toward the cold storage facilities.  _

_ One of them, a woman with her long blonde hair tied back in a tight ponytail and her hand on the grip of a gun held loosely by her side, glances at the cameras. “Okay, which way now?”  _

_ “Take a left,” comes the disembodied voice through her ear. The cameras belong to them now, courtesy of the new hacker who’s recently joined their payroll. The guy’s cocky, but good. “You’ve got a lot of unfriendly guards on your tail, though.” _

_ The woman’s partner, a tall man with a few streaks of grey beginning to show in his black hair and beard, frowns. “They’ll be on top of us before we get to the vault.” He frowns, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the case with the false contact lens and the rubbery lifted fingerprint. “There won’t be enough time to get past the rolling code lock.” _

_ The woman who would be Samantha Cage smiles. “Go on, then. I’ll take care of our uninvited friends.” _

_ She watches Russ Taylor’s back disappearing down the hall as she takes up position in the inset door leading to some kind of biolab. She checks her gun and the ammo pouch at her waist. If she times things right and makes effective shots, she should be able to keep these guys off their backs long enough for him to get past the vault door and retrieve the canister.  _

_ The first round of guards are fairly easy to take down. They’re running blind, the camera feeds they’re being fed are an endless loop of empty hallways. If it hadn’t been for the incredibly bad luck of running into a guard coming out of a bathroom, they would have been able to do this job without so much as raising an alarm.  _

_ The next wave is more cautious. Sam knows she gave away her position with the gunfire, and in between the first guards and the second ones, she moves a little further down the hall and to the other side, taking cover behind a set of trash and recycling bins.  _

_ Sam gasps as a bullet tears through her thigh. “Wanna hurry this up, Taylor?” She asks. “There’s a lot more guys on the way.” _

_ “I’m just retrieving the canister now.” She hears the swish and clunk of door bolts disengaging. “I’ll meet you at the roof.” _

_ Sam gets to her feet, grimacing at the pain in her leg. She limps down the hallway, heading for the stairs. The elevators won’t be safe to take now that the building security managers know there’s been a breach. _

_ “I’m hit, it’ll take me a little longer to get to the chopper,” She says. “Hover her for me, I’ll be there in five.”  _

_ She can hear the door slamming as Taylor reaches the roof. He was at the back stairwell. There’s a metallic clang.  _

_ “They’re right behind me,” he gasps. “I need to get out of here. The door won’t hold them for long.” _

_ “I’m almost there. One more floor.”  _

_ “I’m sorry. But the canister is the objective.” _

_ “Taylor!”  _

_ “I’m sorry, Deborah.” The increasingly loud roar of an engine and the whine of chopper rotors sounds through her earpiece, and she curses.  _ Damn it, he bolted. _ She should have known better than to trust a man who cares about one thing. Himself. _

_ She tries to take the steps two at a time, and that’s a mistake. She loses her footing, one blood-slickened boot sliding and sending her crashing back to the landing. She feels a bone in her forearm snap as she hits the tile, and groans, listening to the sound of the chopper fading as their comm connection goes out of range.  _

_ Laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, she knows one thing. If she makes it out of this alive, Russ Taylor is a dead man. _

* * *

MONTEREY CALIFORNIA

PRESENT DAY

“Okay, for a party set up by evil weapons dealers, the canapes here are amazing,” Jack says, mouth still full. 

“We’re not here for the food, Jack,” Sam says, teasingly. Mac can tell she’s wearing one of Bozer’s dress designs, the one that lets her conceal a small handgun on her thigh and a knife up the single long sleeve. She met them at the airport, dressed and driving a black SUV from the motor pool. Mac has no idea how she arranged to get them into the party on such short notice, but he doesn’t think he really wants to know. And he doesn’t think asking is a good idea, Sam has been tight-lipped since she gave them mission details on the plane. And she’s working the field with them, which is either a sign that she’s getting bored riding a desk, or that something about this op is personal. Mac’s inclined to think the latter. “Cassandra Wheeler, who owns this mansion, has been on and off watchlists for years, and she caters to a very dangerous crowd. She’s facilitating the meeting between Taylor and the seller.”

“Oh, I think I get it,” Bozer says. “The seller’s never met Taylor, so we take him off the board, get the meet coordinates, and then send our own man to buy the Hades at the meet tomorrow.” 

Sam nods. “Keep your eyes open in here. There’s a lot of people you don’t want to cross.”

“I don’t see the big scary goons at all the exits that scream this place is bad news, you know?” Bozer observes, grabbing a couple of appetizers off a buffet table while he watches the exit doors. 

“Yeah, well, Wheeler doesn’t need them,” Riley says over comms; she’s jacked into the control panel at the back of the fence trying to get them eyes inside. “The security system is off the charts. Which is why I am still on my computer instead of eating shrimp cocktail. I can’t get past the first layer. They don’t  _ need _ big scary goons with something this caliber.” She sounds disappointed to be missing the party. Mac makes a mental note to grab some of the hors d'oeuvres for her before they leave. 

“I got cameras now, at least,” Riley says. “You’re not kidding. Half the people in here are on watchlists or some country’s most wanted. And it looks like our target is just walking in.”

“I got him.” Sam drains her glass with a sharp swallow and nods to a tallish, slender man in a grey suit and a perfectly trimmed beard, surrounded by four burly men in cheaper suits and cheaper haircuts. He’s sipping a glass of champagne and talking to a woman who’s positively dripping jewels. They speak for a few moments, and then she walks away. 

“Okay, she probably just gave him the meet coordinates, so what’s the play?” Jack asks. “Wait till he leaves and grab him outside?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Riley says. “He came in a small tank, practically. And there’s two more of those big scary guys with it.”

“Well, we can’t just snatch him in front of all of these people, his bodyguards are going to be on us in seconds and even if we take them out we draw too much attention,” Bozer says, waving some sort of small cracker with a topping for emphasis and narrowly missing hitting Jack in the face. “How are we going to get him and get out of here?” 

“I have a plan,” Mac says. “But I’m gonna need Jack’s phone. And two shots of whiskey.”

Jack hands it over with a sigh. “Well, see if you can get it back afterwards, I wanna add it to the wall of phones that have lost their lives in the line of duty.”

_ He’s not joking, any time we get a build back that I made with pieces of his phone, he puts it on one of the shelves in the kitchen.  _ Most times, the phones don’t exactly make it back even in twenty pieces, especially when they’re used as detonators, but there have been enough salvaged mangled ones that there’s a decent collection going. 

“Oh, if this goes right it won’t get broken,” Mac says, then turns to Desi. “Think you can get that in his pocket?”

“With pleasure.” 

Clearly Desi’s caught onto the plan, because she reaches back onto the bar for the shot of whiskey Mac ordered and downs it messily, purposely letting some spill on her dress. The smell of alcohol is strong and Mac hopes it’ll be enough to make the bodyguards think she’s drunk. He grabs his own glass and does the same, barely wetting his lips with the alcohol and letting a decent amount splatter onto his suit jacket.  _ Sorry, Sarah _ . The Phoenix wardrobe manager is going to kill him. 

He pulls Desi out onto the dance floor, moving them closer and closer to their target. He’s glad they don’t have to pretend to be good at this, because he has no idea what he’s doing. Desi apparently does, she’s moving with the practiced grace of someone who feels at home on a dance floor. Mac is afraid he’s going to step on her feet. 

He leans in closer, whispering while they move across the floor.  _ At least it doesn’t look suspicious, almost everyone out here is practically cheek to cheek.  _ “You just need to slip the phone in his pocket.”

“I don’t have to take anything?” She almost sounds disappointed.

“Nope.” He straightens up just as the song hits a crescendo, and sends her spinning out away from him. There’s something too perfect about her twirl, like she forgot she was supposed to be drunk and is acting on some old training. He wonders if she was in ballet, the way she moves on the tips of her toes certainly seems like it sometimes. And she’s always using high kicks in fights, things she’d have been good at if she had a background in that type of dance. 

_ Jack teases her for fighting with her feet…but she’s incredibly steady on them. _ Jack only knows how to beat her because he knows her.

And then Desi crashes into one of the bodyguards, and Taylor, and Mac realizes he needs to stop wondering about her past and play his part. 

“I’m sooooo sorry,” Desi slurs, wobbling back to her feet and putting a hand out toward Taylor, apparently to steady herself. Mac can just see her slip the phone into the man’s pocket as he hurries up. “I just lost my balance.”

“No harm done.” The man’s British accent is thick. Taylor flashes her a wide smile that somehow looks strained. That seems...odd. _ Then again, if I just bought a weapon of mass destruction, I’d probably be a little stressed too. _ “It’s not every day a beautiful woman like you falls at my feet.” 

Mac can see the absolute fury behind Desi’s plastered on inane smile. And when Taylor kisses her hand, Mac can see every muscle in her shoulder tense.  _ She wants to put him in a headlock. _

He turns to Mac with a smile. “Unfortunately, it appears the lovely lady is already taken.” He places her hand in Mac’s, and turns back to the men with him.

Mac pulls away from Taylor’s hand. Something about his ingratiating personality and his forwardness reminds him uncomfortably of someone else. Someone he’d rather forget. 

“I call dibs on cuffing him when this is over,” Desi growls as she and Mac make their way back to the rest of the team.  _ Clearly she’s not his fan any more than I am.  _

As soon as they rejoin the others, Sam pulls her phone out of her pocket, scrolls down the list of names, and then taps Jack’s. The phone begins ringing halfway across the room, and Mac shakes his head. Jack set Sam’s ringtone as Men at Work’s “Down Under” a while ago, and he didn’t bother to change it when she got promoted to Director. Mac doesn’t envy Jack the momentary death glare he receives before Taylor, clearly confused, pulls out the phone and answers. 

“What the hell...who is this?” His voice has a frantic edge.  _ For a billionaire black market weapons dealer and war profiteer, he sure seems easily spooked. _

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that I know about Lesotho.” Sam’s voice is icy, and Mac notices she’s speaking without so much as a trace of her Aussie accent. “And I know some people who are very upset about that little mess. If you’d like your name to stay out of their hands, meet me behind the house in the pavilion, in ten minutes. Alone. If I see even one of your guard dogs, deal’s off.” 

She hangs up. “Alright, let’s go get ready for an extraction.” She glances at Jack. “If we can drag you away from the refreshments long enough.”

“I’m finished, I’m finished.” Mac sees him tuck a napkin into his jacket pocket. _ He’s grabbing something for Riley too. _

Riley meets them at the pavilion, taking the napkins from Mac and Jack gratefully and munching on a few hors d'oeuvres before tucking the rest into her purse.

“Here he comes,” Desi whispers. “But he’s definitely not alone.” All four of the burly bodyguards are still with him.

Sam frowns. “Maybe he’s gotten even more arrogant since I knew him.” She shrugs. “Or maybe he’s just gotten tired of doing his own dirty work.” 

“He has no idea who he’s dealing with,” Desi says, glancing at Jack. “Care to go un-even the odds?”

Jack nods, and the two of them melt into the shrubbery around them, leaving Mac, Riley, Bozer, and Sam at the pavilion. A moment later, two dark shadows launch themselves at the bodyguards. Jack and Desi are a blur of motion, taking down the men with practiced ease. Taylor throws himself to the ground, and begins moving back toward the house. Riley sprints over to him, pulling her gun out of her purse and holding it on him. 

“Stay right there,” She says. “I am hungry and these shoes are too tight. Don’t give me an excuse to pull this trigger.”  _ She definitely takes after Jack. _

“Two each,” Jack pants, shaking out his hand when he and Desi are done. “I’m still ahead.”

“No, I am.”

“I thought we agreed anyone from our cover jobs didn’t count.” 

“I’m still ahead, I don’t need the count from my bouncer gig.” 

“Desi’s ahead,” Bozer confirms. “It’s because she took out that truckload of guys in Suriname last month.”

“That was a truck, not hand to hand combat, I wasn’t counting that.” Jack says. “We need better ground rules.” 

Sam seems much less amused by the whole situation than Jack and Desi. She hauls Taylor up by his collar, glaring at him. 

“Deborah?” Taylor’s eyes widen. 

“It’s not Deborah anymore. I’m Samantha Cage. Everyone,” Cage says, with a bite in her voice Mac rarely hears, “meet Russel Taylor.”

“You know I hate that name. Call me Russ, please.” He flashes her a weak smile, and Sam decks him, then shakes out her fist with a grimace.  _ Looks like she’s been waiting a while to do that. _

“Get him to the van,” Cage says. “Riley, you got the back gate security down, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Riley says. “I was just starting to have some fun with this place.” 

Jack tosses the unconscious Taylor in the back of their van, and Bozer climbs in the driver’s seat. The van is quiet as they drive to the safehouse, aside from the ongoing mumbled argument between Jack and Desi about the validity of claiming undercover fights in their tally totals as they clean and bandage each other’s bruised knuckles. Riley is patting Taylor down, pulling Jack’s phone out and handing it back to him, and then plugging Taylor’s into her computer. And Sam is sitting in the passenger seat, staring out into the coastal night with an unreadable frown. 

Bozer parks them in the garage of the safehouse, and Jack and Desi haul Taylor inside, handcuffing him to a kitchen chair. Sam fills a glass of water at the sink and tosses it into his face, and he wakes up with a gasp and groan.

“What do you people want?” He asks, dazedly. “I was going to cooperate…”

“I said no guard dogs,” Sam snaps coldly. “That was the deal. And you broke it.” 

“They’re...not mine,” Taylor coughs. “They’re here to make sure I deliver.”

“Deliver what? The Hades?”

“What?”

* * *

PHOENIX SAFEHOUSE

RILEY IS STARTING TO THINK THEY’VE GOT THE WRONG MAN 

“Where are you meeting to buy the Hades?” Sam asks, her grip tightening on the man’s arm. Taylor grimaces.

“What the bloody hell is this Hades?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. The bioweapon that you purchased under your alias Desmond Kane.” 

“That wasn’t me,” He insists. 

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, Taylor. I can put you in one of our holding cells and sweat the truth out of you, or you can hand over everything you have on Spearhead and its activities.” 

“I shut down Spearhead Operations almost a year ago. I don’t do that kind of thing anymore.”

Sam frowns. “I think you’re lying. Just like you always have. What happened in Cairo last month was one of our plans. I recognize my handiwork, even when someone’s painted over a few of my lines. Quite sloppily, by the way. My original wouldn’t have failed.”

“I had nothing to do with anything in Cairo. I’ve gone straight.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Sam changes her grip to his throat. “If you didn’t buy Hades, what were you doing at that party?”

“Cashing in on an old favor with Cassandra.” Taylor gasps. “Believe it or not, it’s a little hard for me to find a legitimate job. She owed me.”

“I think he’s telling the truth.” Riley holds up the envelope she’s pulled from Taylor's jacket. “This is an IOU. For one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” Bozer whistles. 

“So who were the guys with the bad haircuts and bad attitudes?” Jack asks.

“I might have pissed off the Sicilians just a touch,” Taylor admits, shrugging and looking a little chagrined. “They had...significant investments in Spearhead. And didn’t take kindly to me shutting the whole thing down. I’ve been cashing in on every favor I’m owed just to keep my head attached to my body.” he sighs. “I showed her the IOU and she was going to bring back the cash in hand. I was waiting for her to deliver when you people called me.” He coughs. “And about that. Since I can’t tell you what you want, are you going to get rid of me?” He frowns, glancing at Cage with something like regret. “I suppose that’s what I deserve from you.” 

“Unlike  _ some people _ , I don’t just write off anyone who’s of no more use to me,” Sam snaps. Riley can sense a history there, some buried grudge. She’s rarely seen Sam this furious.  _ Whatever he did to her, he made her hate him. _ Samantha Cage doesn’t hate lightly, but the last time Riley saw this look in her eyes was when they went after Murdoc last year. 

“As long as you’re not going to kill me, could I have a glass of water?” Taylor asks. “I’m feeling a bit parched.”

“Sure,” Mac says, filling a glass at the kitchen sink. “Sorry.” Riley can tell he wasn’t a fan of the way they played this op. Riley will admit, at least to herself, that she’s a little uncomfortable too. Sam’s got personal feelings at stake when it comes to Taylor.  _ And it looks like that just got in the way of us getting this job done. _ True, the only intel they’d had was that someone using one of his aliases purchased the Hades, but…she’s not used to Sam letting her feelings dictate her actions. This is a Cage she doesn’t know. 

“I’d still like to know who was using your name to buy a weapon of mass destruction,” Sam says. “It has to be someone from your past.” She turns to Riley. “Bring up the footage from the party, the facial captures. Anyone look familiar to you?”

“Roman Geddings.” Taylor says. “Right there.” He nods to a man with longish dark hair and a beard, wearing a shoulder holster under his suit jacket as he walks into the party. 

“That name sounds familiar,” Desi says. 

That’s because it is,” Riley replies. “Former CIA. Resigned in disgrace a few months after I started, something about an altercation with his CO.” 

“He was my second in command in Spearhead, and he was none too happy when I shut it down. Said I was making a mistake.” he sighs. “I’m just having a little trouble believing it.”

“Why?” Sam asks. “You bailed on him and pissed him off, he just found the opportunity to do a job and get revenge at the same time, by pushing the blame on you.” Riley thinks she’s not reading the situation so much as she’s taking the opportunity to rub whatever this man did to her a lifetime ago in his face. 

“I just don’t think Roman would be able to orchestrate this,” Taylor says. “He’s a good soldier, but he needs direction. Someone to give him orders. Working alone wasn’t his style.” 

Riley watches the expression on Sam’s face go from exasperation to concern. She turns on her heel and walks toward the door of the living room. “Dalton, with me,” She snaps.

Riley’s left standing in the kitchen with Mac, Bozer, and Desi. Taylor glances at Desi, a slight smirk crossing his bloodied lips. “I’m very sorry we weren’t properly introduced earlier. You’re quite…”

Whatever he was going to say is very effectively silenced by Desi’s right hook. 

* * *

Jack watches Sam pace the living room. He’s seen this look before. It’s the same one Mac gets when he’s finding all the things he needs to build something. Sam is putting pieces together, but from the look on her face, she’s not a fan of the picture that’s starting to emerge. 

“Do you believe what he said about his guy not being capable of pulling this off?” Jack asks.

“Taylor has an inflated sense of self-importance,” Sam says. “He’s definitely been known to downplay the abilities of anyone else to make himself look like a more competent leader. But…in this case I think he’s right. It’s the same play as with Almasi. Whoever is behind all of this is gathering the worst of the worst around them and then setting their plans in motion.”

“Someone’s assembling an evil Avengers?” Jack says. “Oh, that ain’t good.” 

“I know. And…Jack, this is why I wanted to talk to you alone. I think whoever’s doing this is also behind Kovacs.”

“That was James.”

“We assumed it was. But we found his burner phone on him after he was…after the failed escape. It was pretty charred, but Riley’s been running data analysis on it. And it made calls to two different numbers. One was most likely Kovacs, but the other…” She looks down at the tile for a moment. “It wasn’t until we got our hands on Almasi’s tech that we found a match. He received calls from the same number. One that even Riley can’t track down. Yet.” 

“So Kovacs, Almasi, and this Roman dude are all just someone’s chess pieces?” Jack doesn’t like the thought of that at all.  _ Bad guys working separately are one thing. _ The thought that someone’s making a team of supervillains doesn’t sit well. The last time that happened…well, Murdoc’s little collective didn’t last long, but Jack spent every day of its existence afraid Murdoc would be bold enough to come for Mac again, this time with so many people backing him up Jack and the team wouldn’t stand a chance. It’s a good thing Murdoc lacked the charisma to hang onto a permanent team. Whoever is behind this…they’re doing a better job.

_ Murdoc and James were both too twisted to make a team work. _ Jack can only imagine the devastation if they had.  _ The Ghost worked alone too. _ He and his team have really only faced down singular evils, for the most part. The idea of a collection of monsters spanning the globe is terrifying. 

“I’ll bring in the rest of the team.” Sam walks out and returns with the others. She fills them in as rapidly as possible without leaving out any details. Jack glances at Desi’s freshly bloodied knuckles but doesn’t comment. 

Riley seems unsurprised by the news, at least more so than the others. “I’ve been tracking some chatter on the dark web the past few weeks,” she says. “There’s definitely recruitment going on. It’s happening off the web, but people are talking about it anyway. Rumor has it that you have to be the best of the best. I got a message from one of my old hacker friends a few weeks ago, saying if I hadn’t gone white hat I’d be a cinch for this.” 

Sam nods. “That fits with what we know. Someone’s taking skilled criminals and building their own team. And clearly, whoever this leader is, they’re unfazed by losing members of their network. Almasi was a serious blow to their finances, and they’re still planning to purchase the Hades at no small sum.”

“Roman will most likely be long gone by now,” Desi says. “If he was already there when we were, he probably has the location by now. And without that, we have no actionable intel on this sale.”

“I can try to pick up his car on traffic cameras,” Riley says. “I got footage of the parking lot.” She pulls out her rig and opens it, fast-forwarding her video feeds until she picks out the car. She enters the make, model, color and license number into her live traffic scans.

“Well, I have an APB out for that car as a stolen one,” She says. “And...it was found ten minutes ago by a patrol car. Parked abandoned in an alley. An alley, might I add, with no security camera visuals.”

“Damn it,” Sam mutters. 

“What do we do now? Go back and grab Cassandra and pump her for intel?” Bozer asks. 

“Grab her from a party she’s hosting?” Jack replies. “That would be a death wish.”

“We may not need Cassandra,” Sam says. “But...as much as I hate to say it, I think we need Taylor.” 

* * *

“You finally get to make your smelling salts. Are you happy?” Riley asks, leaning over Mac’s shoulder. 

“I’d be happier if we weren’t using them to wake up an informant who hopefully will be able to tell us how to get information about the sale of a WMD,” Mac says. 

“That’s not what’s really bothering you, is it?” Riley asks quietly. “I’ve seen you work on far more serious ops. Is it Sam?” 

Mac shakes his head. Maybe he should be worried about Sam’s personal involvement, but he’s seen her get personal before, and it’s always with a purpose. If she has a bone to pick with Taylor, that’s her business. They’ve all fought enemies who hit close to home. He’d be a hypocrite if he acted like Sam shouldn’t be part of an op that was personal. He’d never have told Matty that. They were fine when it came to Ethan. Maybe Matty made some emotional decisions, but they got the job done because that’s what they’re good at. 

No, what’s bothering him is a personal problem of his own. The longer he spends in the same room with Russ Taylor, the more he feels like jumping out of his own skin. There’s something eerily familiar about him. Mac knows he’s never met the man before tonight, but that doesn’t mean he’s never met his type. 

“He reminds me of someone,” Mac finally admits, staring down at the crystallizing liquid in the pot. 

Riley just nods. He appreciates that she doesn’t ever pry. She lets him talk when he wants to. She’s a very considerate sibling. 

“You wanna get pizza and play skee-ball when this is over?” She asks.

“Are you trying to be Jack right now?” Mac asks. He’s kind of glad Jack’s not asking him about why he’s so jumpy...yet.  _ He’d just get angry, and that won’t help us.  _ Mac’s not afraid of Taylor, per se. He’s just afraid of that kind of person. 

“Is it working? I can go get him,” Riley says, resting a hand on Mac’s shoulder gently. Her hair is frizzing in the steam from the pot, the once-flat strands returning to curls, the burgundy ends just brushing her shoulders now. She glances over her shoulder to where Jack and Cage are discussing something. 

“I’m okay for now.” Mac says, then turns off the heat and pours out the liquid. “Okay, this just needs to cool.” 

When it’s done, he hands the small dish to Sam, who holds it under Taylor’s nose until he wakes up with a sniff and gasp. He winces, the two punches he’s taken so far tonight have begun to leave bruises on his jaw and below his left eye.

“I’ll make this easy for you,” Sam says sharply. “Tell us what you know about Cassandra’s records of her clients, and we’ll put you in one of our own cells instead of tossing you back to the Sicilians.” 

Taylor swallows. “Cassandra keeps a record of everyone she’s worked with. Who owes her, who she owes. She knows everything about every transaction. And if someone fails to hold up their end of the bargain, she has all the blackmail material she needs. She’s anonymously reported whole terrorist cells just to prove her point. Deal with her, and you’d better be able to make good on it.” 

Jack nods. “Okay, so we just have to break back in. Riley, you’ve still got a hole in their security, right? You can slip in and download her records.”

“That’s not going to work,” Taylor says. “Cassandra doesn’t keep her records on a computer. She’s too careful for that. Her ledger is a literal black book.”

“Well, we need it. Do we steal it?” Bozer asks.

“Nope,” Desi says, popping the ‘p’ sound in her mouth. “If Cassandra finds out her ledger is gone, then she’s going to alert everyone she works with that it’s in the wind. Which includes Roman and our seller.” 

“So we have to steal and copy this ledger, without her finding out, while avoiding the Sicilian mob goons who probably want to kill us? Easy peasy,” Jack mutters. 

“Where does she keep this book?” Sam asks. Taylor looks slightly uncomfortable. 

“In her personal office. In a safe. She keeps a smaller book on her at all times, but every day she records everything from it into her main ledger. Since the deal was set up yesterday, you’ll be able to find what you need in it.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Sam moves back. “Until my team has that ledger and its contents in hand, you are still at risk of being returned to the Sicilians. So I hope for your sake that for once in your life, you told me the truth.” 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Sydney.” He looks at Sam. “You know as well as I do that the objective is always more important than the operative.” 

“That’s just it. I knew better than to trust you then, and I let my guard down. It won’t happen again.” Mac wonders exactly what happened between them.  _ She says she doesn’t get involved with the people she works with. But then again, there had to be some reason that became one of her rules. _

It’s not often he thinks about who she was before Phoenix. He of all people knows that sometimes the past is best left there. But tonight, he got a glimpse of the woman Sam was before.  _ Whoever Deborah was, she’s not as buried as Sam probably wants to pretend. _

* * *

It’s nights like this that Bozer wonders what he’s gotten himself into. When he feels out of place among these people. In this job.

It’s not that he feels unqualified. He went to spy school. He’s trained to handle any situation he walks into, within reason. And he lived with Mac, which means improvising his way through problems is...not quite as easy as it clearly is for Mac, but he can do it.

What Bozer feels like he’s lacking is what he’s come to term ‘beast mode’. Sam was in it tonight, for sure. It’s a little scary to watch happen, but at this point Bozer is used to the idea that his co-workers are capable of some truly terrifying things. The thing is, he doesn’t think  _ he _ is.

Everyone else has a switch that gets flipped sometimes. Jack turns into a papa bear when one of his kids is in danger. Riley goes laser-focused on her hacking. Mac stops talking and starts doing crazy science things. Desi...well, he hasn’t seen that as often, but she seems to turn into an almost robotic soldier. And Sam becomes a terrifying manipulator, ruthless and cunning. 

Bozer doesn’t do that. Sure, he gets mad and protective when something happens to Mac, or any of them at this point really, but he doesn’t become a useful hyper focused machine. He’s just himself, angry and scared. When it comes right down to it, the truth is, he doesn’t fit in and probably never will. 

He doesn’t mind, most of the time. He knows Mac needs a little piece of normal, and Bozer is the normalest part of his life anymore. Heck, they all probably need that. But he also sometimes feels out of his depth. Especially as Sam starts explaining how they’re going to retrieve that black book. 

“Okay. Mac, Desi, you two need to stand down. Those Sicilian mobsters saw you crash into Taylor. They probably know you had something to do with drugging him and planting the phone. You show your faces at that party and they’ll be all over you.” Sam frowns. “Desi, I’d like you on prisoner transport duty with me. Mac, stay behind with the van, if they get made they’re going to need a fast getaway.”

“Well, the van’s no GTO but I think I can get some speed out of her,” Mac says, grinning and nudging Jack’s arm. 

“Bozer, you’re going to have to lift the ledger and copy it while Riley keeps you off the security monitors and Jack’s playing his charming self, keeping Cassandra out of that room.” 

“Time for Double-O Boze to shine.” Bozer straightens his tie.  _ Hope that sounded as confident as it was supposed to. _ He can do this. 

“I’ll be on comms to talk anyone through anything you might have to improvise,” Mac says.  _ He’s worried too. _ Bozer’s done his share of scary things since he became an agent, but that doesn’t mean it gets easier for Mac to watch him do them.  _ He spent half his life trying to protect me.  _

The ride back to the mansion is uncomfortable. Riley has the schematics of the house, which she pulls up on her rig and starts talking Bozer through. He’s only half-listening, though, because he can tell they’re all avoiding the elephant in the room. Cage’s past just walked back into all their lives. 

It’s not like they don’t all have their own demons lurking in the shadows. But the last time someone’s past came knocking, it was Kovacs. And the way that ended...Bozer can’t watch Mac get hurt like that again. He’s sort of glad he’s the one going into that house tonight.

They park well away from the building, and Mac slips into the driver’s seat as the others step out. Bozer follows Riley and Jack to the spot in the fence where Riley can knock out the sensor grid and give them a way inside. 

Jack straightens his tie. “Alright. Time for me to go charm the ladies. Don’t tell Diane,” he says teasingly to Riley, who rolls her eyes at him. “I’m gonna take my comms offline now aside from the emergency channel.” 

Bozer nods. Jack doesn’t need to risk having something they do be loud enough to make it past the comms to Cassandra’s hearing, and they don’t need to be distracted by his terrible pick-up lines. The emergency frequency is something Riley created while they were more or less in non-operational status; it remains dormant unless one of the team activates it, and then it will override even a turned-off comm unit. Unless the comm is actually destroyed, it’s a foolproof emergency alert system. And if a comm is destroyed, that’s basically an alert in itself. 

Riley sequesters herself in a corner, pulling out her tablet, while Jack wanders out into the chatter and buzz of the reception area. Bozer, using the cliche but successful excuse of needing a restroom, manages to slip past the fringes of the crowd and make his way to the hallway where Cassandra’s office is located. 

“Okay, cameras in that wing are looped,” Riley says. “Door lock is the old-fashioned kind.” Bozer pulls his pick set out of his pocket and gets to work. He learned all about picking locks one summer when Mac brought home a bunch of them from a junkyard and taught himself how to get them all open. Mac had just moved in with them after Harry had died, and he hadn’t been talking much to anyone. Bozer had started badgering Mac to teach him to do the same tricks, mostly as a way of trying to make Mac participate in some form of human interaction, and it had worked. Bozer learned to pick locks and got Mac to open up a little as well. 

The door locks open with a soft click, and Bozer glances around the whole edge, looking for wires or magnetic alarm triggers. He doesn’t see any, so he carefully turns the knob and opens the door. “I’m about to go in, are there cameras in here you need to shut off?”

“No, I guess Cassandra likes keeping some spaces private. But Bozer, there’s some sort of pressure plate in the floor in front of the door.”

“Can you shut it off?” Bozer whispers. He’d like to get inside and out of the hall as soon as possible. He feels nervous and there’s sweat pooling under his collar. He doesn’t need to get caught breaking into the office and blow the whole op. Now that he has the door open, he has no excuses left if someone comes in.

“It’s hardwired, so I can’t disable it through this system. All I can see is that there’s an alarm that’s labeled pressure sensors. It sends an alert to her phone but nowhere else, and I haven’t been able to get behind her phone’s software yet.”

“There’s probably no way to shut it off short of taking the whole house off the electrical grid. She triggers the alarm like anyone else would and just ignores it when she knows she set it off,” Mac chimes in from the van. “Actually a very solid plan. Just not working out well for us.” 

“Guess we’re about to find out if I can still take home the standing long jump trophy,” Bozer mutters.  _ Track and field, don’t fail me now. _ He tries to block out thoughts of evening jogs with Leanna, at spy school and after they moved in together. He tightens his muscles and throws himself forward, hoping for the best.

His leap lands him on a rug inside the office, and he skids a little, but Riley confirms a second later that he hasn’t triggered any sensors. “Her safe should be on the wall to your left. There’s a retinal scanner and a fingerprint reader, but all you have to do is plug that little nanoreciever I gave you into the base of the fingerprint scanner and I can take it from there. 

Bozer pulls the tiny USB out of his pocket, it looks like the piece of a wireless mouse that goes into the computer (the part he always somehow manages to lose). 

“Nice job, Boze.” Mac sounds like he was holding his breath.  _ I know he still feels like he dragged me into this life against my will, and he still thinks if anything happens to me it’s going to be his fault. _

Bozer plugs the microusb into the safe and a few minutes later the series of lights along the top edge turn from a red scroll to blinking green. He pulls open the door. 

There’s all kinds of papers in here and something in a wooden box. But what catches Bozer’s eye is a row of black leather-bound journal-sized books. The one with the least battered cover is probably the most recent, and he pulls it out, flipping it open. He pauses, then skims back through the pages to be sure he’s not missing something. There’s nothing in this one. Maybe she keeps one blank book to use. He pulls out the one next to it, with the same result. Nothing. 

“I got Cassandra’s books, but guys, get this. They’re empty.” 

“Empty?” Riley asks. 

Then it clicks. 

“She must use some kind of invisible ink.” Bozer glances over the desk. “But I’ve got tape and some colored pens. Mac, you showed me this trick years ago.” Mac’s instant blacklight came in handy for several scenes in Bozer’s movies when the alien investigators were tracking slime trails. He slaps tape over the phone light and then scribbles blue ink on top, then puts on another layer and covers it with the closest pen he can find to purple. He turns on the flashlight and holds it over the book.

Nothing happens. He frowns and holds the light a little closer to the page. He can see the bluish glow, but there’s still no indication of anything other than blank paper.

“Hey, guys, Cassandra’s on the move,” Jack says quietly. “Kept her on the hook as long as I could but someone she was waiting for just walked through the door. Please tell me you guys have what we came for.”

“I’ve got the books, but I can’t get the ink she was using to show up.” Bozer’s voice is skating on the edge of cracking. “What did I do wrong, Mac? ”

“There’s multiple different kinds of invisible ink. She must be using a heat activated one.” Mac’s voice on the other end of comms sounds like he’s getting a headache. Bozer can practically see him closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Does she have a desk lamp?”

“Yeah.” Bozer glances at it. 

“Okay, well, you’re going to have to turn it on and hope no one wonders why her office light is on when she’s downstairs at the party.” Mac says. “At least she doesn’t have guards.”

“I’ve got the camera feeds on a loop, so unless a really curious guest walks by, you’re probably in the clear,” Riley says. 

Bozer switches on the light, wincing at the sound it makes. He feels like every breath is too loud. He holds the paper as close as he can to the bulb, praying it’s not one of those LED kind that are supposed to be environmentally friendly and don’t get nearly as hot.  _ Or one of the mercury kind, Mac used those in Milwaukee and I thought Jack was gonna flip out.  _ Mac had needed to reassure him about ten times that he had been careful not to give himself mercury poisoning.

Thankfully, the bulb is a normal incandescent, and a few moments later, in the heat, a series of dark brown numbers begin appearing on the page. Some of it’s in code, but Bozer can see the date. Two days earlier. He flips the page over and sees yesterday’s date, then skims down until he finds an entry labeled “Underworld”.  _ Hades. _

“Okay. I got something,” Bozer says. “Riley, I’m sending you coordinates.”

“Great. Wrap this up and let’s hit the road.” Bozer shuts off the light and tucks the book back into the safe, then freezes. 

He looks from the partly open door to the window where he’s planned to make his exit. The door is the only problem. If the door isn’t locked, Cassandra will know someone was here. But he can’t walk back across the pressure plate to close it. He looks up, and catches sight of an antique spear resting over the bookcase. Some kind of ridiculous decorative piece, probably really expensive and rare if Bozer actually knew what he was looking at. But at the moment it’s pretty valuable to him. 

He climbs up on the first shelf of the bookcase, trying to ignore his mother’s voice in his head scolding him for using furniture as a jungle gym. 

_ “Wilt Bozer, you come down from that this instant.”  _

He grabs the spear and carefully pushes the door closed, listening for the lock to click into place. “Hey, Mac, I just made a door closer out of a Roman artifact.” 

“Great. Now get out of there,” Riley hisses. “Cassandra’s incoming.” Bozer replaces the spear and pushes the window up, attaching the cord he’s using to close it to the underside of the frame. Mac’s super-sticky gum substitute is going to come in handy. Mac also made it to self-degrade in twelve hours (probably in self defense after the haircut incident) so as long as Cassandra doesn’t get the sudden urge for fresh air before then, she’ll never even notice anything was there.

Bozer hops down into the bushes, then tugs the cord. The window slides into place with a soft swish, and Bozer hurries off into the night.

* * *

Desi breathes a sigh of relief when she hears confirmation that everyone made it to the exfil van intact and is on their way back. Riley’s traced the coordinates to a spot in the hills outside L.A., some government owned land with a small outbuilding on it that she thinks is probably the meet location. 

Sam immediately takes charge, deciding where to allocate her people to finish this op most effectively. She spent most of the time they were at Cassandra’s talking to Matty over the phone. She sounded apologetic from what Desi could hear.  _ She probably feels like what happened is on her. _ Desi will admit that she does think Sam’s personal involvement is risky, but she also doesn’t think they made a mistake based on the intel they had. Maybe they could have interrogated Russ sooner if Cage hadn’t punched him, but there’s no guarantee Roman wouldn’t have been gone already anyway. 

What matters is that they finish this op well, and clearly that’s where Sam’s focus is now. 

“Mac, Jack, Riley, I want you on a chopper headed for that meet location ASAP. You guys go get the Hades back. Bozer, I’m going to have you return to Phoenix to help coordinate from the War Room. Desi, you’re with me.” Sam turns to the tablet she’s holding, and Desi sees her press the command to mute the comms to the other members of the team. “We’re going to go talk to the one other person who has some experience making his own personal villain crew.” 

“What about me?” Russ asks.

“Well, as much as I would love to be escorting you to your very own room in our top secret underground bunker prison, we might need your help on the op. So you will be staying in one of our secure holding cells with Oversight personally keeping an eye on your whereabouts.”

“Ohhh lovely. A babysitter.” 

“I doubt you’ll be smiling if you say that to her face.” Sam says. “But you could try it.” 

When the van gets back, Sam unlocks Taylor’s cuffs and leads him out, locking them to one of the internal rollbars. He winces, but seems to know better than to complain. Mac drives them to the airfield, where they part ways, Bozer, Sam, Taylor, and Desi headed for the jet, Mac, Jack, and Riley commandeering a sleek helicopter.  _ We’ll give it back or pay for the damages. _

Desi wishes she was with the team there. She’s itching for a good fight again. And she knows she’s not going to be allowed to take out her anger on the man they’re going to see.

She keeps her thoughts to herself until Bozer and Taylor are squared away at Phoenix, and she and Sam are in the air again, the jet headed east into the faint sunrise peeking over the horizon. 

“It’s Murdoc we’re going to see, isn’t it?”  _ That’s why she muted comms. Because Jack would have protested. _

Sam nods. 

“Why me?” Desi asks.

“Because you are the one with the fewest bad memories of him.” Sam’s voice is flat and stiff. “And because he doesn’t know which buttons to push to set you off.” She glances at Desi. “I know you want to kill him. I want to kill him. But you need to bury that and get the job done.” She takes a deep breath. “You and I are good at that.”

Desi nods. She’s spent a lot of time pretending to like the monsters she’s worked with. Pretending she’s on their side. That, God forbid, she  _ agrees _ with them. She can handle an hour with Murdoc without screaming obscenities and fighting the guards to get into his cell and snap his neck. She thinks. 

“Will you tell Mac?” She asks.

“No. At least not until after this mission is over, unless he gives us something that’s vital to the current op.”

Desi thinks that was the right call. As much as it feels wrong not to have the rest of her team looped in on what’s happening, she knows that distracting them with the looming specter of Murdoc is even worse. They need to be focused, and they can’t afford to have their heads in the past while trying to save the future.

She leans back in her seat, trying to relax. Her shoulder aches painfully even though the gunshot wound from the automatic rifles was nowhere near the worst she’s had.  _ The last time we faced that monster down, I took a bullet. And Mac got kidnapped.  _ Or more accurately, handed himself over to try and save his friends. By the time they got him back, he’d been drugged and whipped. Desi feels bile rise in her throat at the memory of Mac’s bloodied back. She’d only seen glimpses of how bad it was, in the infirmary. She can’t imagine what it was like to find him. 

She wishes they could have left Murdoc to rot forever. Knowing what she does now about Mac’s past, and the role that monster played in it, she can’t help but wonder if this is going to be a mistake. Murdoc likes to play games, and she’d rather not give him the chance to play another. 

Sam reaches up into one of the overhead compartments. “Game of Risk to pass the time?” She asks. 

“Sounds good to me.” Desi knows she’s setting herself up to get beaten, she never won a strategy game against Samantha Cage in the entire time they worked together. But at least a challenge will keep her mind off their destination. 

Desi decides that the slim margin by with Sam beats her this time is due not to an increase of skill on her part, but due to Sam being distracted by this op. She’s never seen Cage so emotionally invested. 

“What happened with you and Taylor?” She finally asks, as they’re putting the playing pieces back in the briefcase that functions as a travel case for them. 

“We used to work together.” Sam doesn’t offer more, simply snapping the case latches closed. “He burned me on an op, and by the time I got out of the hospital, he’d cut ties with Scorpion and created Spearhead.” She scowls. “I looked for him for a while, but then I went white hat and decided murdering a former associate in cold blood wouldn’t look good on the record.” She glances out the window. “I more or less had moved on. Then Cairo happened and I recognized our work. Or thought I did.” 

“You got the chance to take him down and you went for it.” Desi has her share of monsters from her past that she’d do the same with. She can’t blame Sam for getting involved. As much as she wishes the op had gone more smoothly, it’s not the Director’s fault.  _ She moved on intel that seemed to confirm her suspicions.  _ It’s not the first time a field call has turned out to be the wrong one, and they still have a chance to fix that. “Do you believe he ended Spearhead of his own volition?”

“I don’t know.” Sam taps one fingernail against the glass. “He’s the last person I would expect to trade in his sword for a ploughshare. But I also don’t know why he would lie. He knows I’ll find out the truth sooner or later. And he knows that if he lies to me again he’s a dead man. So…” She takes a deep breath. “I just wish I knew why.”

The jet banks and levels out, and Desi watches the approach to the hidden landing strip get closer and closer. The complex tucked away in the Rockies looks drab and cold, a light dusting of snow already covering the ground. But she can’t muster much pity for the inhabitant they’re here to see.

When they step out, a blast of snowy wind hits Desi in the face, and she breathes in as deeply as she can. It feels like home. And for a split second, she can shake the dread clawing at her mind and pooling in her stomach. 

When they get to the doors, Sam swipes her ID, and looks up at the overhead camera. Desi follows her lead, and then the doors disengage with a heavy clanking thud. This blacksite is state of the art, with all sorts of countermeasures and protocols to make escape nearly impossible. But that only makes her feel marginally safer. 

They check their weapons with a guard in a locked and blastproofed control room, and then enter the elevator that will take them two floors down to the most secure holding level. Desi notices the barest flicker of something like dread cross Cage’s face as they descend. She’s surprised to see the Director showing any emotion at all, but today definitely shook her up. Whatever part Taylor played in her past was a big one. 

When they step out, Sam walks purposefully to the only occupied cell in the level. The light from inside spills out over the tiled floor and concrete walls. Desi shudders at the sight of a face she’s only seen on briefing dossiers. 

Murdoc looks...inhuman. His black eyes glitter under the lights, his skin is ash white from his underground existence, and his smile is utterly devoid of any human emotion. Desi’s faced a lot of monsters, but this one might be the worst she’s seen. Because she knows that the mind behind that face is even more twisted than it seems. 

“So lovely to see you again, Deborah.” Murdoc’s smile gets even wider. “Where’s our dear little Angus?” 

“He’s not coming,” Desi says. She crosses her arms and tries not to let the eerie stare get to her. “You’re never going to see him again.”

“Oh, but that’s what they told me about you all too. And yet…here you are.” He shrugs. “Admit it, you need me. You need my expertise. Because you’re too afraid to think like me. Afraid if you do, you’ll become me.”

_ What a piece of work. _ Desi shudders at the thought that Mac spent months forced to listen to this kind of crap.  _ It’s a wonder he’s as stable as he is. _

“I have one deal on the table, Murdoc,” Sam says. Her eyes look almost as cold as his. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll arrange for you to see sunlight for an hour a day.”

“How generous,” Murdoc chuckles. “I thought at the very least you’d have dangled Cassian in front of me like a carrot.”

“He won’t be used as a bargaining chip anymore,” Sam says. “Your son deserves a chance at a normal life. Without any reminders of his past.”

“You want him to forget all about me. Because you can’t help Angus forget his own father. Isn’t that right?” Murdoc shrugs, sitting down on a metal chair behind the barrier, tugging at the collar of his garish red jumpsuit. “You tried so hard to protect poor little Angus from the monster who made him, and in the end you failed.” Desi watches Sam carefully school an expression of anger. “You don’t want to let me have the chance to do to Cassian what James did to Angus. But I assure you, I am nothing like him.”

“Keep talking about Mac, and you  _ will _ be just like him. Six feet under and nothing but a memory,” Sam says. “We don’t need you that much, no matter what you think of yourself.”

“I would like Angus to live.” Murdoc finally says. “It would be such a pity to destroy a masterpiece like him. So…in exchange for your offer, you will get one thing. If you want more, you’re going to need to bring him with you.” 

“Start talking, or we walk.”

Murdoc rolls his eyes, like they’re the ones who are inconveniencing him. “I stayed away from the larger playing field the past few years, after all, I had Cassian to look after. I was choosy about my jobs.” The thought makes Desi’s stomach flip, but at the same time she feels a burst of anger that Murdoc cared enough about his son to change his normal patterns for him, but James MacGyver almost got his son killed. If there’s one person she hates more than Murdoc, it’s him.  _ That cold hearted bastard is lucky he’s already in the ground.  _ “But last year, the rumors started. People I knew were talking about a new player. Someone who was only ever referred to as ‘Titan’.” He looks up. “Titan is ruthless, heartless, and dangerous.” Desi almost laughs at the irony of hearing that from this man. “Whoever he is, he has one goal. Power. And he will use any means to reach that end. Those who cross him disappear. Those who outlive their usefulness are murdered.” Murdoc raises an eyebrow. “That’s all I know.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” Sam says. 

“You know more than you did when you walked in. I think that should be enough for you,” he says with an exaggerated shrug. “If you want more, I want some company. Angus or Cassian, that’s up to you.” His smile is twisted. “Please tell MacGyver that it’s his choice.” 

“Neither of them is coming here.” Sam says firmly. “Both of them are going to stay where you can’t touch them.”

“I hope you know that no matter what you do, no son is ever free of their father’s influence.” Murdoc laughs chillingly. “You can bury us, alive or dead, but you can never make us disappear.” 

The hollow laugh follows them down the hall into the elevator. Desi waits until the doors close and they’re two floors from that level before clearing her throat and letting out the words that have been clawing at her since Murdoc stopped talking. 

“There’s more he’s not telling us. I think he has an idea of who Titan is,” Desi says.

“Oh, of course he does,” Sam says. “He’s playing a game. But he hasn’t beat me yet.” Her hand slips to her stomach. Desi heard something about her getting shot a couple years ago. She hadn’t known it was Murdoc who did it. “Whoever Titan is, they have something to do with James MacGyver.” 

“You’re sure?”

“I am now.” She leans back against the wall. “I just have to find out how.”

* * *

MEET COORDINATES

FASHIONABLY LATE ISN’T GOOD IN THIS BUSINESS

“Damn it,” Riley says, looking at her tablet as the three of them forge through the underbrush. “There’s two vehicles already there.” 

Jack sighs. Even pushing the chopper to its limits they weren’t fast enough to make the meet in time. Almost, but not quite. “Guess we’ll just have to hope that Roman is planning on hanging onto the Hades for a while.”

“I’m not sure he is. That’s a service access location for one of the water treatment substations for L.A.,” Mac says, his voice shaky. “He could be planning to use it as soon as he buys it.” 

It’s like the VX all over again.  _ If he dumps the toxin in the water supply it’ll affect millions of people. _ Jack tries not to think about how horribly sideways that op went. Not to remember Mac’s pale, pained face. 

The gunshot crack is loud in the misty chill of the morning, and all of them flinch. Caution thrown to the wind, Jack plunges ahead faster, ignoring the branches that catch on his jacket and face.  _ This isn’t just a sale anymore. Someone changed the rules.  _

“Vehicle pulling away, hot,” Riley pants. “Tasking...sat...to follow.” 

They burst out of the tree cover and take in the small tin-roofed building, with the massive pipes leading away. Jack sees Mac suppress a shudder. He’s probably reliving the VX op too. 

Jack glances through one of the grimy windows. There’s a man inside, on the floor, a pool of red steadily growing around him. “I got a body. Don’t see anyone else but keep your eyes open.” Riley nods, and then Jack kicks in the door, clearing the room carefully with Riley covering his back. She stops just long enough to snap a photo of the dead man’s slack face and upload it to her facial rec program before they move out of the main room. A control office and mechanical room are both empty. Apparently the seller didn’t have bodyguards. He must have trusted his buyer, and he paid for it.  _ Why does anyone in this business trust anyone?  _ Jack’s never understood how people can do business with killers and not think they’re going to end up dead too sooner or later. 

“Building’s clear. Buyer’s gone and no sign of the Hades,” Mac says. He’s holding a small black briefcase that is conspicuously empty. “We’re sat tracking the vehicle.”

Matty’s voice comes in over comms. “I’ll send a tac team to try and pick him up now.” 

“I’ve got an ID on our victim. Charles Carver, he was a former DXS contractor who fell off the grid a couple decades ago,” Riley says, kneeling beside the body. “Double tap, center mass. I think Russ Taylor was spot on about his former CIA henchman being our guy. This is straight up agency work.” She frowns. “His wrists and ankles were restrained. Roman must have overpowered him, taken the Hades, and then killed him so there wasn’t a chance of him changing his mind about selling a WMD and spilling to someone.” She looks up. “If he went to all this trouble, I don’t think he just took the Hades and ran. He needed time to do something.” 

“So we’re too late? The toxin’s already in the water?” Bozer asks.

“I don’t think that’s his delivery method,” Mac says. “Look at this map. The water doesn’t go from here straight to the dispersion system. There’s another large central treatment plant between us and distribution. The toxin would get filtered out there.”

“So this was just a meet location?”

“No.” Mac points to a wrench lying on the ground. “That’s used to open up the valves on the pipes to do maintenance. Someone did access the water supply.”

Jack picks up a round canister from the floor under a table. “This ain’t good.”

“What is that?” Riley asks.

“The payload from a Tiger Shark.” Jack says. “This is from a state of the art guided torpedo. Kinda like that smart bullet that the Chinese mercs almost got in Hawaii. It’s programmable and also has onboard AI to navigate tight spaces without detonating until it reaches its targeted GPS coordinates.” He shrugs. “Steve was nerding out over them when we were at his house.” 

“Of course he was.” Riley says. “So that’s his delivery system?”

“It makes sense,” Mac says. “If he programmed it to detonate at the main treatment plant the toxin would disperse rapidly into the air. And that plant is in a prime location to infect the city. Prevailing winds would carry the toxin right along this line.” He gestures to the map of L.A. 

Riley turns her rig to show them the schematics of the Tiger Shark she’s pulled up. “There’s no way to hack this thing once it’s been armed. It’s all self-contained, no outside direction. It relies completely on its GPS and AI controls.” Riley frowns. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“Wait. You said it’s totally dependent on the onboard GPS?” Mac asks. “I think I know how to stop it.” He looks up, and Jack almost grins at the familiar glint in those eyes. “I just need to make a quick stop at either a concrete plant or a diaper factory.”

* * *

PHOENIX HOLDING

Matilda Webber has a reputation. A brilliant, driven, charismatic operative with a talent for interrogation and psy-ops. Russ Taylor always figured if he met her, it would be in a place like this. He just hadn’t been sure until now which one of them would be asking the questions and which would be handcuffed to a chair.

“Russel Taylor. Born April 17, 1967 in Sussex, England, joined the British Special Forces when you were 18, then decided the black market was a more lucrative profession. You joined the organization known as Scorpion and quickly made a name for yourself as a no-questions-asked military contractor. Eventually you shed the agency to open your own, Spearhead Operations. Private armies for hire to the highest bidder. Then, a year ago, you vanished. Only to resurface when my people are tracking a dangerous criminal whose operation methods match yours almost perfectly.” She sits down, tossing a file onto the table. “Did I miss anything?”

“Only the fact that I’m not the man you want.”

“So you’ve told my people. I’m here to decide if that was the truth.”

Taylor sighs, letting his arms fall to the sides of the chair as far as the cuffs will allow, hoping the vulnerable position will make Webber take him more seriously when he tells her he’s not a threat. “I’m sure Deborah has told you I’m some kind of monster.”

“As a matter of fact, until Cairo,  _ Samantha _ never even told us you were a part of her past.” Webber raises an eyebrow. “I think you mean less to her than you would like to imagine.” 

“Tonight would say otherwise. Don’t you know she compromised your entire operation because she let emotion get the best of her?” He isn’t sure it’s wise trying to pit two master interrogators against each other, but it’s worth the chance.

“If you think you can make me question my agent’s loyalties, you’re talking to the wrong person.” Webber’s voice is clipped and stern. 

“Just trying to determine whether the right hand knows what the left is doing.” He shrugs with a forcedly casual motion. “She always kept so many secrets. I wondered if that changed.”

“At the moment, the only person whose secrets I am concerned about is you.” Webber says. “My sources tell me that Spearhead stopped accepting contracts a little more than ten months ago. However, all your old accounts are still active.”

“I’m paying off my investors. When you move black money, filing for bankruptcy doesn’t exactly keep the creditors off the doorstep.” He isn’t sure himself how it changed so fast. It’s been less than a year and still he’s almost forgotten what it was like to casually deal in billions of dollars every year.  _ But most of what I was worth was tied up in Spearhead and its assets. _

He can’t say he regrets what he did. Even if it was too late. But there are times when he misses the old days. 

He was hoping Deborah...Samantha...might understand. He’d heard she’d gone straight since the...incident.  _ Canberra was their mistake. _ He knew the results of pissing off someone of her caliber. He’d had to leave the agency because of it.  _ I’m not surprised she burned Scorpion to the ground. _ What is rather surprising is that she did it the mostly legal way. 

She’s changed. He’d hoped that would mean she could accept that he had too. But it seems some old wounds are less than healed. She won’t trust him. But Webber seems more impartial. If he can get her on his side, maybe he has a chance of surviving this. Because if his fate is up to Director Cage, he knows never seeing the sun again will be a merciful fate. 

“In my experience, men who spent a lifetime building a criminal empire on blood money don’t often have changes of heart,” Webber says, her voice clipped. 

“Let me explain.” As quickly and clearly as he can, he tells her the truth. About Georgia. About the clinic. About why he turned his back on Spearhead. And about how he did the right thing a little too late.  _ I can never change that. But I can make amends the only way I can, and hope she might be able to care about the man I can become. _

When he’s finished, Webber stands up, closing the file on the table and leaning in to look him in the eyes. 

“I’m prepared to offer you a deal contingent upon the results of this operation. If your intel was valuable to our people, I will arrange for you to enter protective custody of the Phoenix as a confidential informant. You will disappear, and your former associates will be prevented from finding your whereabouts.” She frowns. “This deal will remain as long as you continue to provide us with helpful intelligence on our operations.”

He hears the threat below the words.  _ Stop being useful and be thrown back to the wolves. _ Webber didn’t offer him the total anonymity and new identity of a witness protection program. She didn’t offer to fake his death, just keep interested parties off his back. Still, she’s the best deal in town, and Russ Taylor is nothing if not a man who can smell opportunity.

“I’d shake on that, Ms. Webber, but my hands are a trifle inconvenienced.”

“You’re not leaving those cuffs until my people come home.” She stands up. “So you’d better pray they do.”

* * *

ONE CONCRETE PLANT LATER

Jack hovers the chopper over the grassy lawn just outside the water treatment plant, watching the dump truck barrel through the gate.  _ Riley drives stick shifts like a wild woman. _ Jack figures that’s probably his fault, turning her loose on the ranch trucks. She’s quickly become the team’s designated large vehicle driver. 

The truck stops in a spray of gravel outside the pump station, and Jack lands the chopper, ducking the prop wash to join Mac and Riley. They’re grabbing buckets and shovels out of the back.

“Hey, thought the plan was to dump your polyacetate stuff in that tank,” Jack says.

“Sodium Polyacrylate, but close,” Mac says. “And we can’t get the truck up there. So we’re gonna have to hand-haul it.”

“Yeah, well, tracking says that torpedo is gonna pass through that station in eleven minutes, so you better hurry,” Bozer’s voice through comms is near frantic. “Mac, how is this gonna work?”

“Well, Sodium Polyacrylate is super absorbent. Used for making concrete, and in baby diapers too.” Mac shrugs, scrambling up the back of the truck and scooping the white powder into buckets. “We’re going to shut off the water coming through this contact basin and then add enough of this powder to make a semisolid gel. It’ll stop the torpedo without causing enough impact to detonate it. Since it can’t reach its GPS coordinates, it’ll stay dormant until a team can extract it.”

They haul the buckets up to the edge of the tank, and Mac turns off the water valve while Jack and Riley open the top of the tank and start dumping buckets in. Riley runs back to the truck and fills two more, handing them down to Mac, who rushes them to Jack.

“How much is this gonna take, Hoss?” Jack asks. “Cause I can stack a hell of a lotta bales in an hour before rain, but I still don’t think we’re gonna have that truck unloaded before that torpedo shows up.”

“It should be working…” Mac stops running long enough tos stare down into the tank. “Oh no.” 

“What’s wrong? It’s not working?” Riley asks, shoving her sweaty hair out of her face. 

“No. The powder is clumping and the chemical reaction can’t take place if it’s not mixing with the water,” Mac says. He glances around, then pulls off his jacket and swings his legs over the side of the tank. 

Jack grabs his shoulder. “Whoa, hey, kid, couldn't you just whip up a giant whisk outta some junk or something instead o’ jumping into that stuff?”

“No time,” Mac says. “I’ve got to mix it from inside.”

“No.” Jack says. “If anyone’s going down in there, it’s me.”

“Can’t be you,” Mac says. “This stuff...if it does what it’s supposed to it’s gonna get really sticky. Like quicksand. I won’t be able to pull myself out. But you can, if I go down with a rope.” He looks at Jack with those wide sad puppy eyes. “It’s not toxic, it won’t hurt me as long as you can get me out.” 

Jack takes a breath. “Okay. But the second it works, we are pulling you out.” 

Mac slides over the edge, plunging into the water. “Hand me a shovel!” He calls up, and Jack dangles one down in. Mac grabs it and starts swirling it through the water around him. Riley runs off for more buckets of powder, and Jack stares down at Mac struggling through the thickening water.

“Hey, it’s working!” Mac says, sounding breathless. 

“Okay, lemme get you outta there,” Jack says, fishing a rope out of his tactical gear pack and tossing it down. Mac grabs for it, but loses his grip on the shovel.

“Damn it.” He turns around and dives under the surface of the gel before Jack can yell at him to leave the shovel and come up.  _ Why the hell is he worried about that? _ But moments tick past, and Mac doesn’t come up. Riley, panting, leans over the edge, her face lined with stark fear and panic. 

“He...he’s not coming up.” Riley’s put words to the thing Jack’s been thinking, and that’s all the push he needs. He rips off his own jacket and plunges into the liquid. It’s not like hitting water, it’s...like nothing he’s ever felt before. Thick and sticky. He spreads his arms to keep from going under himself, there’s a good chance that like Mac, he’d be unable to get back to the surface. He reaches down into the gel, feeling around until his hand hits something hard and unyielding to his swiping fingers. He clears a path above Mac’s body, grateful the gel is thick enough to be pushed aside long enough for that, and then pulls the kid’s head upright, turning Mac to face him.

The kid’s eyes are closed, the lashes caked and sticky with the gel. His lips are slightly blue, the water down here is cold, and he’s been in it much longer than Jack. 

“Come on, Mac, breathe for me, kiddo.” Jack’s about to check to see if there’s gunk clogging his mouth when Mac begins spitting and coughing. He blinks at Jack. “T-told you n-not to come d-d-own h-h-here,” He whispers through chattering teeth.

“Then you shouldn’t have dove down in there for your shovel, dude,” Jack says.

“I can’t leave it here. If the torpedo hits that it might be enough of a solid object to set it off.” Mac shakes his head, a spray of gel flying everywhere. Jack turns his head aside, feeling several of the drops land on his cheek. 

“Okay, fine, let me get it then.” Jack feels around, slowly, until his fingers meet the wood handle. But there’s no pulling the shovel up. So Jack does the next best thing. Feeling like he’s literally walking through molasses, he lifts one foot, then the other, and stomps the shovel down to the bottom of the pipe. “Okay, good enough.” 

“You have to get out of there, guys. Or the thing stopping that torpedo is gonna be you.” Matty’s sternness is undercut by genuine fear. “You have less than two minutes.”

Jack looks up at the worried face framed by black and burgundy hair that’s hovering over them.  _ She can’t pull both of us out unless she built a pulley system, and she doesn’t have time.  _ But there is something strong enough to get them out of this goo. 

“Ri, you’re gonna have to get that bird in the air. Just tie that rope to the skid, then hover and pull. That’s all.” She nods. “You can do that. You’ve watched me fly hundreds of times.” He glances at her. “Hey, toss me down your pack okay?” His tac gear has a front loop that’s connected to a force dispersion harness, but Mac isn’t wearing a tac vest. Jack’s repurposed a few backpacks into airlift harnesses in active war zones. Mac won’t be nearly as hard to get it on as a concussed Sid Lanier. 

He holds Mac upright with one arm while working on the backpack harness. Mac tries to help, but his fingers are blue with cold and most likely too numb to even feel what he’s doing, and he gives up with a shiver.  _ No wonder he lost his grip on that shovel.  _

Jack hears the helicopter engine whine to life, and hears the thwack of rotors in the air overhead. The rope flops down into the gel. 

“Thirty seconds to impact,” Matty warns. 

Jack takes a deep breath.  _ We can do this. _ He slips the rope through his tac vest ring, then attaches it to Mac’s makeshift harness. “Okay, Riles, pull!”

The chopper strains, engine whining. Jack feels the goo clinging to his legs, like a living thing trying to suck them down to die.  _ There’s not enough lift. She can’t take both of us. _ He has ten seconds to solve that. He fumbles one hand to the pocket of his pants, reaching for the knife to slice through the loop on his vest.  _ I’m sorry. But if one of us is going to make it out alive, it has to be Mac. _ He can see the blinking green light of the torpedo coming closer…

And then it falls away beneath him as the gel lets go with a sucking roar and the chopper lifts off. Jack watches the torpedo smack into the gel below them, the green glow slowing rapidly until the torpedo is resting still and harmless below them. Jack drops the knife down into the hole and wraps his arms around Mac. “We did it, kiddo, we did it.”

Riley sets them down, a little roughly but safely, on the grass, and Jack fumbles the rope off both of them before pulling Mac into his lap. 

Mac is shivering violently, and Jack pulls the kid up against him, his back to Jack's chest, and starts rubbing Mac’s arms and shoulders. The clinging cold slime is definitely not helping, but Jack doesn’t think trying to remove any of Mac’s clothes is a good idea right now. He’s sure there’s some kind of decontamination shower here like there was at the plant with the VX, but he doesn’t want to move Mac anywhere until the kid’s a little more coherent.

“Paramedics are en route,” Riley says. 

“You cut that close,” Matty’s voice is trembling with relief. Jack thinks he can hear Bozer trying not to cry in the background. “If you two pull a stunt like that again I am going to permanently bench you for your own safety.”

“Ah, we were fine.” Jack knows the knife in his hand is never going to make it into the after action report. Mac and Riley don’t need to know.  _ I didn’t have to do it. I would, in a heartbeat, to keep them alive. But until we get there, I won’t worry them.  _ Instead, he looks up at Riley, grinning proudly. “Thanks to Riley’s flight skills.” 

“If you ever make me do that again…” Riley is shaking, her legs trembling so much Jack’s afraid she might fall. He reaches for her, and she hugs him, ignoring the chilly slime dripping from his clothes. 

“You did great baby girl. You did great.” 

She kneels down beside Mac, taking one cold hand in hers and rubbing. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Mac whispers.

“You definitely owe me pizza and skee-ball now, you know that, right?”

“Hey, are you planning a Pizza Palace outing without me?” Jack teases.

“Like we’d ever do that.” Riley chuckles. “We were going to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised.” Jack hears the whine of approaching sirens. “Come on, Mac, let’s see if we can explain this one.”

* * *

MAC’S HOUSE

THE SHOWER GOT A LOT OF USE TODAY

Mac still doesn’t think he got all the gel off his skin. Or out of his hair. He feels sticky, like he’s some sort of slime creature that crawled out of a pit in the ground, like one of Bozer’s movies. His fingertips and toes still feel frozen, and he can’t stop shaking, although he isn’t sure that’s cold, it’s probably more of an adrenaline crash. The paramedics reluctantly agreed he could go home, with supervision.

Diane was worried sick about them all, and the moment they showed up at the house, she’d hugged all of them then told Mac and Jack to leave their clothes on the deck. Mac heard her cursing the slime in the laundry room when he was getting out of the shower, and he saw the edge of his white henley poking out of the trash bin when he went to the kitchen to grab the team a round of beers.  _ Oh well. _ It’s not the first time he’s lost clothes to an op. Not even the most disgusting. 

“Jack tells me you’re ready to test for your pilot’s license,” Desi says, raising her beer to clink against Riley’s. 

“Oh no way. That was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done.” Riley shakes her head. “Flying, I can do. Dragging my dad and my little brother underneath on the end of a rope...not so much. The only thing going through my head the whole time was that scene in the  _ Muppet Christmas Carol  _ where Gonzo and Rizzo stow away by tying a rope on Scrooge and get dragged through a forest. I was sure I was going to smack them into the side of the tank or get them caught on the fences.”

“You didn’t,” Jack says. Mac can tell there’s something about this op haunting him a little.  _ Maybe just the fact that I almost died. _ He knows diving back into that gel was a risky move, he’d just been so afraid that after everything, him being clumsy would ruin the whole plan.

“Good news,” Bozer says, walking in with Matty. “Hazmat crews recovered the Phoenix, and the Tiger Shark torpedo. Thanks to the torpedo’s serial number, a naval base is about to have to clean house and find the black market dealer working in their warehouses.”

“Unfortunately our tac team was unable to intercept Roman Geddings,” Matty says. “They moved on the truck that Riley’s sat feed was tracking, but the driver was a homeless man who said he was given two hundred dollars to drive that truck as far east as he could get it. His description of the man who offered him the money fits Roman perfectly.”

“At least we know who we’re looking for now,” Riley says. “I can task Friar to scan for Geddings across every camera in the country. Sooner or later, we’ll find him.” She frowns. “Where’s Sam?”

“With Taylor,” Matty says. “He’s going to act as our informant until we get to the bottom of this, and they have some unfinished business to solve before that.” 

“You told her she was welcome to come after, right?” Jack asks.

“Of course we did.”

Bozer pulls Mac into a hug. “Man, you scared me today.” Mac doesn’t know whether to apologize or not, so he just wraps Bozer in an equally strong hug.  _ I know. And I’m sorry. _ But they’re all still alive. And right now, that’s the only thing that matters. 

* * *

THE PHOENIX FOUNDATION

NOT A HOTEL

Sam tosses the scratchy wool blanket onto a cot in one of the secure cells. “Make yourself at home. You’re going to be here a while.”

“I was under the impression my protective custody was going to include an actual safe house,” Taylor mutters.  _ Maybe Matty promised you that. But I’m in charge of the minor details of this agreement, and this is where I feel comfortable putting you. _ She doubts he’d run, they could post a guard at the house in case, but he knows if he’s on the street he’s a dead man. Still, she prefers to have him right here.  _ Maybe it’s a bit petty. But it’s also a tactically sound choice.  _

“Until we find out who this mystery person is, Taylor, I want you where I can keep an eye on you,” Sam says. “You’re not leaving Phoenix until we get some real answers.”

“I told you, I’m as much in the dark about who this ‘Titan’ is as you are, Director.”

“I will believe that when I see it, Taylor.” Sam knows better than to trust him. She learned that the hard way a lifetime ago. 

“Your boss seems to think I can be trusted.”  _ Matty told me she believed his story. She’s not one to be taken in. But still, I know him better. And I know how well he lies. _

“I hope she’s right.”

“I promise you, she is. I’m not going to let you down this time.” He sounds genuinely remorseful.  _ But I can’t afford to buy into that completely. He’s dangerous. And selfish. He’s doing this because we can protect him. Not because he truly wants to help. And not to make amends.  _

“Scorpion twisted me up. But you? You broke me.” She turns away. “So if you cross me, or go behind my back, know that whatever happens to you next is on your own head. Because you made me, Russ Taylor. This monster is all yours.” 


	3. Kid+Plane+Cable+Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at long last, here's a new chapter of Wunderkind! Despite power surges and fried protector strips at my house last night, I managed to get this one up in time for the S5 premier of the show itself. Hopefully from here on out I'll be able to post updates a little more frequently. Thanks to everyone who's supported and checked in on me!
> 
> Note: There's one part where Mac has a panic attack and the most graphic part is marked with # so you can skip that if it's something you don't want to read.

###  403-Kid+Plane+Cable+Lake

THE PHOENIX JET

DESI IS TOO TIRED FOR THIS

“I could feel it, comin in the air,” Jack says in a singsong voice.

“NO. Please. Jack, stop.” Desi groans. “If I hear one more Phil Collins lyric used to describe this mission, I will jump out of the jet myself.” 

They’d managed to bring in Jonas Henshaw, the spy turned college prof turned master thief they’d run a month-long undercover to smoke out, but his last job had been stealing chemical weapons for a Somali warlord, so after they dropped him off at Phoenix with Cage for interrogation, most of the team had flown off to Somalia to stop the weapons from being used.

It’s been a rough three days. Desi’s got a bandage on her thigh and two on her right arm from a fight with a knife-wielding psycho, Riley has a concussion, and Mac nearly set himself on fire and has the scorched hair to prove it. Jack is the least damaged of them, and she knows he’s avoiding moving his bruised ribs too much. 

Bozer’s been coordinating the mission from the War Room since Sam’s been running interrogation, although he’s once again sharing with Matty, who just came back on their comms an hour ago. Desi knows Matty well enough to know she’s gone to the head of the agency that let Henshaw slip through their fingers back home and she’s getting an IOU in exchange for keeping their op under the radar. They’ve all been busy lately, and she can’t speak for everyone else, but she’s exhausted.

She’s very comfortable working with the new bosses. Granted, only one of them is actually new, Matty’s just been promoted. But Desi likes and respects Cage, enough to feel comfortable taking orders from her. And on the upside, running a top secret covert agency means Sam has less time to focus on their promised prank war. Desi is absolutely going to win. 

“Did Matty say anything about an escort flight?” Riley asks, glancing out the window.

“I’m an ordinary man, they don’t tell me nothing,” Jack sings, but he’s frowning a little as the pilot calls for them to buckle in and the plane banks slightly..

“Jack!” Desi cuffs him lightly across the arm. “I said no more Phil Collins.” She turns to Riley. “Why do you ask?”

“Because we just got a flyby from an F-16…” Riley murmurs drowsily. Clearly, the concussion is still giving her some grief.

“That’s what that was?” Jack asks, taking off his seatbelt and jumping up to look out the windows on her side. “Yeah, she’s right. Hey Matty, I’m guessing that’s not for us?”

Matty’s voice crackles through the overhead speakers. “No it is not. But we’re about to find out why it’s there.” She pauses for a moment, and Desi hears keys clacking. Then Matty’s voice is back. “That fighter jet was scrambled from Edwards to check out a ghost plane just 20 nautical miles from your position.”

“Oh that ain’t good,” Jack says. “If they’re not picking up on radio or cellular, something’s wrong.” He frowns. “Wait. It’s not an agency op, right?” 

“None of the official agencies have claimed this one, and there was no pre-flight notice registered,” Matty says. “That’s the first thing I checked.” Desi nods, it was a valid question. She and Jack flew their share of under the radar missions. But if any of them crossed into US airspace, they were required to notify the pertinent authorities. That paperwork was a nightmare.  _ I always preferred flying fully out-of-country ops. _

Matty continues. “Air traffic control says it's a Cessna 208 Caravan registered to a commercial aircraft engineer named Ben Reinman. Reinman's flight plan shows him on a day trip starting and ending at Moorpark Airport, but he missed his arrival and just flew by without any explanation.” 

“Could be terrorism, a faulty transmitter, or anything in between.” Desi says, 

Jack nods. “Only one way to find out: get eyes on the Cessna. Hence the F-16.” 

“I’ll notify USAF that there’s a Phoenix team in the vicinity and see if I can loop you in.” Matty hangs up, and about a minute later a new voice crackles over the P.A.

“Completed flyby. Cessna's going too slow to permit clear visual, over. Repeat, I have no visual.”

Jack frowns. “Turboprops max out at 180 knots. An F-16's stall speed is 250. That pilot can't go slow enough to check out the Cessna or he'll crash.” 

“What is our stall speed?” Desi asks. Jack grins. 

_ Oh this will be fun. _ She misses the insane things they got up to during their undercovers. 

“I like what you're thinking. Turn around and get eyes on that plane,” Matty says

“Our stall speed is supposed to be 150...” The pilot begins.

Desi’s never met the kid before this op, he’s a newbie who just graduated to flying the official jet since their normal pilot is out on maternity leave. “Yeah, I know, but there’s tricks to keeping us from falling out of the sky while we’re doing this. Listen, I’ll come up front with you, okay?” She’s sure this kid was planning on flying a routine extraction. Their initial exfil was a commandeered chopper to get them to the airfield, so they hadn’t had a fully experienced combat exfil pilot on the jet, their best one was needed in Argentina for another team.

She climbs into the copilot seat and puts on her headset. “Okay, Matty, we’re going in for a look. I’m gonna take the yoke from here on out.” She’s flown far stranger missions than cruising slower to check out a plane in trouble.

She’s flown the Phoenix jet plenty, gotten the feel for how it handles. She’s comfortable asking more of it than she would be something she’d just hopped into off a runway. In a few minutes, they’ve banked and are cruising slowly alongside the Cessna.

“We fly so close, we fly so close, sometimes we fly too close,” Jack sings. Desi resists the urge to get back out of that seat and smack him.  _ I said no more Phil Collins. _

“We have visual,” Riley says, her voice still sounding a little blurred. 

“You see the pilot?” Bozer asks. 

“Yep. But he's not flying the plane.” Mac sounds genuinely worried. 

“Then who is?” 

“No one.”

_ Oh hell. I was really looking forward to crashing on the couch with Carlo today. _ Desi adjusts her headset a little more comfortably.  _ So much for a break. _

* * *

Mac glances at Jack with worried, wide eyes as he hands over the binoculars. “He looks unconscious. The plane must be on autopilot.”

“If he doesn't wake up before that plane runs out of fuel, he's gonna fall out of the sky,” Jack says. He knows it’s harsh, but that’s the truth. He can’t forget how they lost Gabe Diaz in ‘09. He got hit on an op, but was still making his own exfil. He passed out at the controls and flew straight into the side of a mountain. Because the CIA wouldn’t acknowledge he was working in Chile and give him official exfil, Jack had to tell his wife and two girls that he wasn’t coming home. 

As if the thought of children has summoned his worst nightmares, a curly head pops into view in the cockpit. Someone small, shaking the pilot increasingly frantically.

“Oh, damn. There's a kid in there.” 

“A kid?” Bozer practically shrieks.

Skinny, brown hair...maybe nine?” Jack frowns. “Was there someone else on the plane’s passenger list?”

“The pilot's son, Asher,” Matty says, voice tight. “Ten years old.” 

“We need him to tell us what happened. Use frequency 119. 9,” Jack shouts up into the cockpit, where Desi’s got the radio controls. 

“Can't,” Desi shouts back. “No response.”

Jack hands the binoculars back to Mac. “Can you see what’s wrong?” His eyes sure aren’t what they used to be.  _ Diane’s been telling me to get an appointment for a prescription for glasses ever since I couldn’t read the recipe on the Hamburger Helper box.  _ He’s probably actually gonna break down and do it after this. Because he really can’t see detail, even with those binoculars. 

“Looks like the radio's going through his dad's headphones. He needs to switch the audio output to speaker. But I don’t think he knows that, we have to tell him.” 

“How do you get someone to listen if they can't hear us in the first place?” Riley sounds like she’s slowly coming back online, mentally speaking. Her voice sounds clearer and she’s not moving like she’s wading through molasses anymore. Which is good, because Jack’s sure they’re going to need her for this. 

“We use a different type of radio. You might think the only way to hear a radio signal is, well, with a radio. But all you need is metal. Metals absorb radio signals, and if the signal's strong enough, the metal oscillates and vibrates the surrounding air, producing noise.” Mac huries around the cabin, pulling things apart. Riley groans when he cracks her rig open for parts, but she doesn’t scold. 

“Like a tin can phone?” Jack asks, hoping to keep the kid talking.

“No, that uses string. Carrying sound through a solid object.” Mac holds up a small...thing. “This DIY AM transmitter will create sound in nearly any metal appliance. A heater, a light or a fan, in which case the sound will carry through the plane's vents.”

“Okay, go for it.”

Mac turns on his little transmitter. “Asher? Come in, Asher. Asher?” Jack watches the plane. The kid’s head has jerked up and he’s looking all around the cockpit. Jack watches him searching for the source of the sound, head tilted the way Mac’s is when he’s working on something. “Come in, Asher. Asher? Asher, come in, Asher. Come in, Asher.” The kid finally leans his head down to the vent.

“You got him,” Jack says. “Good as it’s gonna get.” 

“Okay, all you,” Mac says. Jack nods and hands over the binoculars. “Okay, kid, my name’s Jack and I’m here to help. If you can hear us, push the black button on the yoke. That's the thing the pilot uses to steer.”

There’s a loud beep and then a child’s voice comes in over the PA. He’s got the radio on. “Hello?” 

Jack breathes a sigh of relief. “Well done, Asher. Now look to your left. My team and I are in that plane. Like I said, my name’s Jack. We're gonna get you home safely, okay?”

“Okay.” 

“Asher, can you tell me what happened?” 

The boy’s voice trembles, with something that sounds like choked back tears. Jack hates that he knows that sound as well as he does. “My dad got dizzy and passed out. I shook him, but he won't wake up.”

“Is he breathing?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Okay, it’s okay. Just hold your hand up to his face, do you feel anything against your hand?”

“I do. Not much but he’s breathing.” The kid’s voice cracks and he gulps. “He looks bad. I'm scared.” 

Jack takes a deep breath. The kid reminds him of Mac. Vulnerable and scared, but without the defenses Mac’s put up to pretend he’s alright. This is the voice Jack hears inside the kid’s words every time Mac’s hurt or frightened. “But you're doing great. Okay, now I'm gonna tell you how to check his pulse. Put your pointer finger and middle finger on the inside of your dad's wrist, just below his thumb. If you don't feel anything right away, try moving your fingers around a little bit.”

“I feel it, kinda. It’s really weak.”

“Weak pulse and dizziness? It could be a heart attack,” Mac says. “We need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible, if we can get that plane down.”

Jack nods, trying not to think about Pops.  _ I wasn’t that kid’s age, but I was scared as hell anyway when I found out he was in the hospital for a heart attack.  _ “Asher, I need you to check the fuel supply. Okay, that's the…” Jack tries to remember the dash of a Cessna. “...fourth gauge from the left. What's it say?” 

“One quarter.”

“That's bad,” Mac whispers. 

Jack nods and briefly switches off his connection to the other radio. “All right, so, quarter tank, 170 knots, it gives them less than 45 minutes before they fall out of the sky.” 

Riley glances at him with fearful eyes, glistening with unshed tears. She’s always more visibly emotional when she’s concussed. “Without knowing for sure what's going on with Ben, we can't count on him to wake up in time to land.” 

“And chances are slim to none that a ten-year-old with no flying experience could land that plane,” Desi comments from up front. 

“Mac could have,” Riley says, but Jack knows she’s just saying it because she wants to make herself think best case scenario.

“Mac, can you get me over there?” Jack asks.

“Why?” Mac’s clearly just asking out of force of habit though.

“Because I’m going to land that plane.”

* * *

IF MAC DOES THIS WRONG, JACK DIES

SO HE’D BETTER NOT DO IT WRONG

Mac mumbles to himself quietly while he rips apart chunks of their jet for spare parts. He’s got a plan. It’s a sucky plan, but it’s also the only way he can think of to get Jack over to that Cessna.

_ How to make a zip line by tearing apart your own plane: cargo hooks for attaching the cable, a seat cover to create a drogue parachute for stability, and, finally, try not to think about what an insane idea this actually is. _

“A zip line?” Bozer shrieks over comms. “Between planes?”

“The physics is sound,” Mac replies. “Jack, can you explain to Bozer why we’re not going to die?”

“Why  _ I’m _ not gonna die, hoss. You’re not coming with me.”

“Someone has to treat Ben while you land the plane.”

“I’m a trained field medic too,” Riley says. “And plane zipline sounds fun.”

“ _ Not _ with a concussion,” Mac argues. “Besides, if something goes wrong with that plane mechanically, you’ll need me.” Mac swallows. He doesn’t really want to do this, but he’s also not going to let Jack go alone. “I’m coming.” He glances at Jack, trying to make it clear that this is his final word on the subject. Thankfully, Jack nods and lets it go. 

“Okay, let me see if I can explain it how Mac said it,” Jack replies to Bozer. “Whatever he’s building has accounted for weight, speed, and wind shears. Whatever those are.”

“Wind  _ shear, _ ” Mac corrects out of habit, knowing Jack knows what that is but that he’s trying to lighten the mood somewhat. 

“Good, cause I was a little afraid of flying scissors attacking us up there. I’ve had scissor nightmares for years, man, I tell you. My old Air Force buddy would  _ not _ stop with the cliches. Scarred me for life.” He chuckles. “Actually, he’d probably be really interested in this, it’s kinda like the flying boom maneuver they do to refuel planes in midair.” Jack’s on a roll now. “Mac’s thingamajig does the same thing, except instead of fuel, it’s gonna be us getting sent over.”

“Why can’t you just send over parachutes?” Bozer asks.

“Because Ben’s unconscious and Asher’s just a kid. Both of them need an experienced jumper with them to go in tandem, especially since we’re over wooded terrain. We’ll have to go over even just to jump with them.” Jack sighs. “We could do that, but I’d rather take my chances in the plane, landing normally. Over mountains like this, even if we get down we’d never get Ben to a hospital in time.” 

“Hey guys, I think we have a new problem,” Desi says. “Asher’s breathing is getting very rapid and choppy. I think he’s going into shock. Someone needs to calm him down.” 

“Riley, go get on the radio, I got this,” Mac says. He’s got all the parts he needs. 

He can hear her talking to Asher while he works.

“Hi, Asher, my name’s Riley. It’s nice to meet you. So can you tell me something about what you like to do?” She still sounds a little drowsy from the concussion, but her voice is soft and calming nonetheless. She sounds like Diane, when she’s soothing Mac after a nightmare. He’s surprised how fast he’s gotten used to having both her and Jack fussing over him. 

“I like computers too. Do you play any games?”

“Chipmunk Service, Weasel Wars, Zombie Chasers. My dad doesn't like me playing that one because of the zombies, but it doesn't scare me, so don't tell him?” 

“Our secret. So, uh, do you and your dad go flying often?” 

“He doesn’t usually take me up with him. He inspects airplanes for an airplane maker.” Asher’s voice gets wobbly. “He says it’s too dangerous to take me in the test planes.”

“He cares about you an awful lot. Doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“He used to take me a lot. Then Mom died and he didn’t take me flying anymore. This is the first time he took me flying in three years.” Asher sniffles. “Is my dad going to die too?”

Riley takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. But I promise you, me and my family are going to do everything we can to save him, okay?” 

_ She knows that telling someone everything is going to be okay isn’t as helpful as it seems. _ Riley’s good with kids, she understands what it’s like to be young and scared but still far more aware of what’s really going on than many adults want to think. Riley grew up with the adults in her life trying and failing to gloss over the messiness. She knows better than to think that’s a good plan. 

“Your family?” Asher asks. “Was that your dad earlier?”

“Yeah, that was my dad. He knows lots about planes too,” Riley says. “He’s going to come over and help you in a few minutes. My brother’s building a zipline.” 

“Cool.” 

“Actually, the zipline’s done,” Mac says. “Ready when you are, Jack.” Actually, his stomach is doing weird flips and his palms are sweaty. But this is what he has to do. This is his job. 

“Okay. Desi, fly above and ahead of the Cessna at a 30 degree angle, just like the flying boom.,” Jack says. 

“Yeah, got it.” 

Mac has complete confidence in Desi’s ability to handle her part of the plan. He’s gained a healthy respect for her wide range of skill since she’s been part of the team. She’s also hyper-focused on tasks in a way that reminds Mac of himself. She won’t let them down. 

Desi sings softly, just a couple lines of her family’s lullaby. Mac’s gotten used to that being her calming gesture, like Jack running his fingers through Mac’s hair or Riley twisting her fingers into his and holding his hand tight. He appreciates it; it seems to really work. Maybe just because he wants it to, but still.

She’s taken to humming it under her breath when they  _ are _ relaxing, like when they have family night on Mac’s deck or when they’re on their way home on the jet after a not-too-rough mission. She’s only started doing that since Cage came back, and Mac wonders if it was her suggestion to make sure the song was linked in Mac’s mind to good quiet things, not just to intensely stressful moments.  _ At first it worked just because I was trying so hard to figure out what she was saying that it distracted me from what was scaring me. _ But now that his Vietnamese is better, and since he’s memorized the words, that particular aspect of it wouldn’t work so well anymore. 

She’s still on the radio, and Mac wonders if she’s doing this for Asher’s benefit as well. 

He takes a deep breath to still his nerves. They still have to attach the line to the Cessna, and that part of the plan depends completely upon Asher.  _ No wonder Desi’s trying to keep him calm.  _

“All right, Asher, here's what I need you to do. Private airplanes, they usually have a maintenance bag in the back. See if you can dig in there and find a long cleaning tool of some sort.”

There’s a lot of rattling and rummaging, then Asher’s voice. “There's this pole with a weird rubber thing on one end.” 

“Yeah, that's a squeegee. That's perfect. All right, so, you said that your dad flies a lot, right? He's probably got some extra clothes with him. See if you can find a wire hanger.”

More rattling, then a triumphant noise. “It’s the kind with paper on it, is that alright?”

“That's perfect. Now take the wire hanger and bend it into a hook on one end, and then take the other end and wrap it tightly around the squeegee.”

“Jeff’s gonna love this.”

“Who’s Jeff?”

“I have this friend who’s really good at making things out of random stuff. Actually, now my friends and I just use his name whenever we do something like that. Like, "My bike chain was broken, so I Jeffed it".” 

Mac smiles. “Okay. One more thing I need you to build, just like Jeff.” This is the one he’s really afraid of messing up, and he double-checks the straps on his own harness as he talks Asher through replicating it with seat belts. 

“Why am I wearing this?” Asher asks, Mac can hear him struggling with the straps and knots. “Because you're gonna open that door.” 

“I'm gonna what?” Asher sounds like he’s going to panic again. 

“Yeah, I know, but it's the only way. So lift underneath and roll it up.” Mac watches as the side of the plane gains an opening, Asher’s pale face and wind-tossed curls visible behind it.

“Okay, now we’re going to do the same thing. Desi, prepare for us to open the cabin door,” Jack calls forward. Mac knows it’s going to make for a bumpy ride for her. He locks his own harness into one of the cargo hooks and Jack does the same. The two of them override the safeties on the door and then push. The hinges strain and crack under the rush of wind, and the door slams back against the side of the plane. The jet pitches slightly, but Desi keeps it under control. 

“Good thing we’re not over a populated area,” Jack mutters. “Cause we are definitely gonna lose that door real soon.”

“The only thing it might hit down there is a bear,” Bozer mutters. “You guys are over a huge spread of protected wilderness right now.”

Mac tries not to think about the last time he and Jack jumped out of a plane over a forest.  _ We’re not parachuting down this time, we’re just ziplining. Cause that’s so much less scary. _

Jack tosses the weighted tow cable out the door, letting it be carried by the wind down toward the Cessna.

“All right, bud, your turn! This is the emergency tow cable. You're gonna pull it in with that hook that you made.”

Asher reaches out with the pole, clearly straining to try and catch the cable, but it’s just not close enough to the Cessna. Mac frowns, drawing out angles and vectors on the window he’s looking out of with his finger and his breath. He wishes he had a pen, but this will do. Now he can see what’s wrong.

“Desi? We've got to go higher! Take the plane higher!”

“Got it Mac!” She trusts his science like he trusts her flight skills. It’s taken time to get there, but now she feels like a seamless member of their team in a way Mac wasn’t sure would ever happen. 

“I’ve got it!” Asher shouts. 

“Okay. Now hook the cable to the metal part that bolts down the rear passenger seats.”

“Did it!” 

“Did it, indeed.” Mac breathes out a shaky sigh of relief. 

“In a few years, that kid's gonna have your job,” Jack chuckles. “You and I can both retire then.”

“You’d be as antsy as Patty is and you know it.” Bozer says she stopped by Phoenix while they were on mission, claiming she was ‘just in the area’. 

“The longer those planes stay connected, the more danger everyone's in, so get going!” Desi shouts. “I’ll keep her as steady as I can but I can’t speak for the Cessna. One bad air current jolt and…”

“We get it,” Jack says. “Alright, I’ll go first.” Mac tries to argue but finds he can’t squeeze a word out around the lump in his throat. Jack clips onto the line. “Yipee-ki-yay!” Jack yells, throwing himself out the door. Mac doesn’t breathe until he sees Jack catch the edge of the door and pull himself inside.

“Asher?” Mac hears him ask over comms.

“Yeah.”

“Just wanted to be sure I had the right plane. Jack Dalton.” 

_ Well, at least he’s having fun.  _ Mac doesn’t think he saw ‘airplane zipline’ on Jack’s ever-growing bucket list, but he’s pretty sure when they get home Jack’s going to pencil it in and then immediately cross it out, like he has dozens of times after their missions.

“Didn’t know I wanted to do it till we did it,” he claims every single time. 

“You’ve got this, Mac,” Riley says gently, wrapping her hands around his. “No one is going to let you fall.”

He nods, clips onto the line, and then leans out the door. The rush of wind snatches his breath, his hands are shaking, and he feels overstimulated and frantic, every thread of his clothing too much and the pressure from his makeshift safety harness against his legs almost unbearable. 

“Mac?” Riley asks. 

“I…”

“Don’t look down, okay?”

“Too late for that.”

“Hey. It’s going to be alright.” Mac swallows. He can hear Desi singing again, feel Riley’s warm hand on his arm, and up ahead he can see Jack waiting in the Cessna’s doorway.  _ No one is going to let anything happen to me if they can help it. _ He knows that the longer he waits, the more they’re all in danger from the connected planes. He takes a single deep breath and jumps.

The wind tosses him around so much he’s afraid he’ll lose his grip on the ropes. He’s a lot lighter than Jack, and he tries to tuck up into himself as much as possible to create lower surface area for the wind to attack. His ears are buzzing and he can’t open his eyes.

Then a heavy gust flings him sideways, and the cable goes scarily taut and then sags. That gust must have been strong enough to toss a plane. The line pitches again, and Mac bites back a scream as he almost falls the last couple feet toward the plane’s door.

“Those cargo hooks weren’t made to take that kind of strain!” Riley shouts. “Mac, it’s going to snap!”

Mac hears a horrible rending screech and then the only thing holding him up is his fingers clutched at the edge of the plane’s door. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, his muscles have locked up and he can’t even move.

“Mac!” Someone is shouting but he can’t tell who, and he can’t breathe, or think, and his fingers hurt and the cable is flapping loose and lashing his legs...

“I got you, kiddo.” Jack’s hands are tight and warm on his wrists. “Now let go and grab my arms. Okay?”

Mac nods weakly and then reaches up. Jack hauls him bodily into the plane, and Mac bites back a groan as the bruises from slamming into the side of the door make themselves known. His whole chest and stomach feel hot and tight, and he thinks he has a couple cracked ribs on top of that. 

“Mac. Kiddo, hey, breathe, just breathe.” Mac nods, dragging in a few shallow gasps. He needs to stop this panic attack or he’s no good to anyone, and he’s slowing Jack down too.

“The cable,” Mac finally chokes out. “We have to cut it loose.”

Jack nods. “You gonna be okay if I let go?”

Mac honestly doesn’t know.

“Asher, do exactly what I say,” Jack says. “Those mechanics’ gloves over there, hand me those.” Wide-eyed, Asher does. Mac doesn’t have the energy to wonder how much his panic attack must have scared the kid.  _ Great. He’s supposed to be able to depend on me to help get him and his dad to safety and I’m basically having a meltdown. _

“Okay, tell me exactly how you attached that to the chair brace.”Jack says, pulling Mac out of the way. “As soon as I get it loose, you get out of the way, and keep your hands clear.”

“I can’t see the clip,” Asher says after a moment. “I think something got bent.”

“Alright, time to solve it the Jack Dalton way,” Jack says. He glances around the plane, then grabs a hatchet from the emergency kit. “I don’t think I’ve ever once had to use this for its intended use.”

“What is it for?” Asher asks. 

“Breaking out a window if the plane lands in water or catches fire and the doors won’t open,” Jack says. Then he brings the hatchet down on the cable where it’s resting over the edge of the Cessna’s door. Three sharp strikes and the cable snaps and falls away. 

“Okay, let’s go check on your dad and land this plane, how’s that sound?” Jack asks. 

Asher stares after him, eyes wide. 

"My dad's a pilot too, Asher." Mac says. "He's gonna get us down. I know he is."

* * *

THE PHOENIX FOUNDATION

SAM WOULD REALLY LIKE SOME ANSWERS

Cage closes the door to Henshaw’s interrogation room with a thud and leans against it. She’s had Henshaw under her best tactics for almost a week.  _ He’s ex-British Intelligence, didn’t expect him to be an easy one to crack. _ Still, it’s wearing her down too. But that means he’s got to be close to giving her something.

He’s got to know his best shot at getting some leniency for his future life sentence is going to be cooperating. But he’s stubborn. Almost as stubborn as her other detainee. 

She’s got to do something about Taylor. Legally, she can hold him as a war criminal, but that means reporting  _ who _ she’s holding, and she’s also been keeping his name out of what she sends to the other agencies. There’s no guarantees he doesn’t have allies or enemies there. She can’t afford to make either type suspicious. And it’s hard to justify keeping a ‘cooperating confidential informant’ in a cell.

Their interactions since she locked him down here have been limited to terse greetings when she sees him while walking through the cellblock or if she happens to meet him with his guards when he’s allowed upstairs for daily exercise. They both know she’s being a bit petty. But she also doesn’t want to give him the chance to cause mayhem, it’s what he’s good at.

The unspoken tension is threatening to compromise her job, though. She’s aware she needs to deal with it, especially when she’s working Henshaw so hard. If she’s got chinks in her armor, he will find and exploit them, he’s already been trying. She has to patch this thing up and make it less of a weak point.

She turns in the direction of Taylor’s cell, flashing her badge to the guard. She walks down the hallway until she reaches the cell, then swipes her card against the door locks. They’ve upgraded security here since Kovacs broke James out.  _ I can’t decide if I’m angry we have Kovacs actively against us, or glad he took care of the James problem.  _

Having that man around, even in a cell, was hard for Mac. Cage can tell he’s been different since James’s death. A little more accepting of Jack as his real father, a little less afraid of making mistakes. It’s small but it’s a start. 

Taylor looks out of place in the cell, probably because he’s wearing a slightly worn but impeccably tailored suit instead of the brown jumpsuit. Sam reluctantly allowed him to keep the luggage they’d retrieved when a Phoenix tac team scooped up the Sicilians after the party where the team liberated Taylor from them. Apparently his taste in clothing hasn’t changed, although everything was surprisingly at least six months out of date.  _ Maybe he really was telling the truth about going straight. _ It’s hard to imagine Russ Taylor giving up the extravagances he enjoyed. 

“Well, Samantha, it’s a pleasure to see you. To what do I owe the visit? I’d offer you tea but my accommodations are rather...sparse,” Taylor says with a shrug, waving a hand around the cell. 

“Thought you might appreciate the company.” She doesn’t dare tip her hand just yet. If he knows she’s evaluating him, he’ll say all the right things and mean none of it. 

“Yes, because you still refuse to let me talk to any of the rest of your lovely little team. I barely got the chance to get properly acquainted.” 

"You're a war profiteer, Taylor. You thrive off creating conflict. That is not a dynamic I want to encourage in this team."

"In all fairness, you're a negotiator who manipulates people into doing what you want."

“I was.” She doesn’t bother to deny that part of her past. They both know that would accomplish nothing. They know each other’s darkest secrets. Or at least they did. Now, Sam isn’t sure how much of Russel Taylor she does know. 

“Then how can you not accept that maybe I changed too?” He frowns. “Or is it only people you like who get second chances, like Angus MacGyver?”

She was prepared for him to know who Mac was. It would be hard for someone like him to have missed hearing about Mac in some way. He can’t get under her skin that way. 

“MacGyver was innocent. You are anything but.”

“And the Irish girl? Word got around you and the Banshee had teamed up, before someone figured out you’d flipped her. She’s got a higher kill count than you or I together.”

Sam frowns.  _ You clearly know a lot about what I’ve been doing since we left. You must have known my new name. Why did you call me Deborah? _ Maybe he just wanted to unsettle her. Or maybe he was trying to remind her of what they were.  _ If you were, that was a monumentally stupid play, because we both know how it ended. _

Then she knows exactly why he did it. He wanted to make her angry. Because angry people are the kind of people Taylor knows how to deal with.  _ They’re what he’s always known how to deal with. _ For the first time, she feels what amounts to a twinge of sympathy.  _ He joined the army to get away from his family.  _ His father was a strict ex-government man, and his mother was some level of minor old nobility, with the money and the cliche entitlement that went with it, as far as Sam knew. Russ had almost never mentioned his childhood or home life. She knew all along that things had been bad. But it had never seemed to matter much, since clearly neither of his parents was part of his life in Scorpion. Only now, after watching two other people who were broken by the people who raised them, does she understand that Russ never did walk away from that man. Not from what his childhood made him.  _ He learned to lie and manipulate chaos and anger long before he found Scorpion.  _

It makes him more human. And it makes her wonder if maybe, maybe, he deserves the chance she gave Mac and Riley, to prove themselves to be good people, in spite of where they’ve come from. 

“I want to hear the truth.”

“The truth is what I told your Oversight.”

“I want to hear it from  _ you. _ ” Sam settles herself in her chair a little. “I know your tells and I know your lies. So you need to convince me. Right now.”

"Her name was Emilia." Taylor says. Sam frowns. She’s not sure what this has to do with anything. 

“Let me explain.” He steeples his fingers and leans forward on the cot, almost like he’s actively pleading. For what, Sam isn’t sure. Freedom? Forgiveness? Redemption?

"It was a contract in Georgia, rebels who wanted both weapons and men. I was on the ground there supervising and...lending my expertise.” He sighs. “We had defective merchandise. A grenade went off prematurely. I caught the shrapnel in my side and leg." He glances down, rubbing one hand over his right leg. "It severed an artery. There was no way my men would be able to treat it in time, and so they took me to the local hospital. One of the doctors volunteered herself to help, even though the hospital had been a rebel target only days before, there were bullet holes and scorch marks everywhere from weapons  _ I  _ had sold.” 

“Knowing who you were, what you’d done, she still saved your life?” Sam isn’t so surprised by spontaneous human goodness anymore. Not since she met Angus MacGyver. 

"She wasn't anything like us. She was good. And I couldn't bear the way she looked at me. She saw a monster. And for the first time, so did I." He looks down at his hands, and Sam wonders if he's seeing them bloodied.  _ People like us, we lock away the parts of ourselves that recoil at the violence, at the things we did to survive. But those can’t stay caged forever.  _ She knows she’ll be fighting her own demons until the end of her life. She can move forward, but there’s no forgetting.  _ What we’ve done haunts us forever.  _

"It wasn't that I loved her. It was that I wanted to be worth loving. In her eyes. I don't even know why."

Sam nods. On her darkest days, what keeps her from going under is knowing that who she is is a person her team, her family, trusts. She stays a good person for them. For Jack, and Riley, and most of all for Mac. She can't betray his trust. Of all of them, he's the one who truly tethers her to who she made herself. He's the one holding Samantha Cage in place. "Since I joined the army I was surrounded by people who admired me for my ruthlessness. For my skills. I never spent time with anyone who hated me for them before that. I was never forced to see firsthand the results of what I did."

Sam nods. He always ran. From every mistake. From her, when he hurt her. She'd always thought he acted like a child, running away from any real responsibility, from having to acknowledge that he hurt people. But that time, he couldn't.

“I could see it in her face, hear it in her voice. She despised me. Looked at me like someone would look at a rabid dog. And still, she’d saved my life.” Sam nods. It’s something she’s never understood, but always admired, in Mac. He’s kind even when the world has been nothing but cruel. Jack told her that Mac was the only reason he hadn’t turned Murdoc into a memory in that Montana barn.  _ Some people have an inhuman capacity for forgiveness.  _ Sam has always been part of a chain of violent solutions to violent problems. Even now, she makes hard calls that follow those principles. But she firmly believes that the future is in the hands of people like Mac and this Emilia. 

"I asked her, once, why she saved me, if she hated me. And she told me ‘because I do not believe that death is the answer’." He sighs. "People like you and me, we solve our problems with bullets and knives. She was nothing like that."

“And you decided to turn over a new leaf because of that?”

"I saw the children. Two and three year olds with missing limbs. Blinded. Burned. Because of me." He looks up. "She was right. I was a monster. She had every right to hate me for what I had done to the people she swore to protect." His voice is noticeably shaky. And Sam can tell he's not faking. "I didn't want to know what I did, I didn't have to see it. But I couldn't run away from that. From seeing the damage I'd done." He sighs. “It’s going to take the rest of my life to begin to atone for that. But...someday, I want to go back. To find out if she’s even still alive. To tell her...that she saved my life in more than one way that day.”

It’s a good story. Sam knows Taylor’s knack for spinning them. But this checks out. There were rebel uprisings there at the right time for this to have happened, it’s when Mac and Jack and Riley drove the oxygen tanker to the clinic. Georgia was a hot spot last year. She’ll have to check the records she has of rebel groups and their funding, maybe she can pinpoint Spearhead’s involvement. 

“Do you believe me, Director?”

She thinks maybe she does. Just a little. 

* * *

THEY’RE RUNNING OUT OF FUEL

AND TIME

Mac helps pull Ben’s body out of the pilot’s chair so Jack can move in, listening half-heartedly to Desi telling them that she’d going to have to land the jet since they’ve lost the door, and with it, their cabin pressure. The transfer is pretty quick, with the plane thankfully on autopilot. Mac wonders if Ben knew he was going to pass out.  _ One of the scariest things is wondering if, when something bad happens, you’ll be doing something important. _ Mac knows his team is incredibly competent, but he’d hate to be in the middle of disarming a bomb if his heart suddenly decided to give out. 

He settles Ben against the wall of the plan, checking the man over quickly. There’s a strange greenish pallor to his face, and Mac notices that his eyes have burst blood vessels when he checks them. Ben doesn’t respond to any of the poking and prodding, and Mac sighs.  _ He’s still breathing and his heart is beating, but he’s pretty far gone. _ He can’t feel a real arrhythmia or anything, just a slower than normal pulse, that’s weak and hard to find. Something about all this doesn’t feel quite right.

“Asher, did your dad say anything before this happened?”

“He said he was going to have to break down and get himself some glasses. Because everything looked kind of blurry.”

“Did he say anything about pain? In his shoulder or chest?”

“No. He...he did say he thought his foot was going to sleep. That he was getting too old for the hard chairs.”

“Your dad sounds like my dad,” Mac says.  _ This is weird. I know, I know, heart attacks can present in all kinds of ways and that’s why people die from them, they don’t have the traditional symptoms and don’t go to the hospital. _ But still, something about this doesn’t sit right with him. He doesn’t like things that don’t make sense. 

He’d like a little better method of monitoring Ben’s situation than finger pulse checks and hand-to-the-face breathing assessments. He digs through the medical kit and then opens the hatch in the floor of the plane to access the electrical systems. 

Jack must hear the scuffling. “What are you makin’, dude?” 

“Hopefully a quick and dirty equivalent of a smart watch’s fitness tracker. I need something to measure Ben’s vitals, and between the BP cuff in the first aid box and some of the sensors and equipment here…”

“You better not have ripped out my radar.” 

"Nope. The AC."

"Okay, I can live with that." Jack says. 

“Good thing you aren’t Desi,” Mac says. “She likes making her cars into a meat locker. I about froze when she was driving me around while you were gone.” It’s only a slight overstatement. He wore long sleeves and after the first trip brought along one of Jack’s old sweatshirts. He forgot once and wore it into one class.  _ I must have looked ridiculous in that burgundy button down and Jack’s faded old Dallas Cowboys zip-up hoodie over top of it.  _

He finishes with the little contraption. Hopefully, it’ll apply steady continuous pressure enough to monitor heart rate and blood pressure without cutting off circulation. He’ll just keep an eye on how Ben’s hand looks.

He rolls up the man’s sleeve to apply the cuff, then stops. 

“That’s weird.” Mac frowns, leaning over Ben’s arm. “Asher, how long has your dad had this rash on his left arm?”

“What rash?” Asher asks. 

Mac gestures to the red, bubbled skin on Ben’s forearm. “I noticed it when I was going to put the BP cuff on.”

“A rash?” Jack asks. “Hey, Mac, check for small puncture wounds. Could be some kind of spider bite. Asher, does your dad fly out of the country a lot?”

“No, he’s been working from the office for the past week. Some reports he said he had to finish.” 

Mac frowns, looking over the reddened skin. He can’t see any holes, just lots of little red dots. The whole mark almost looks like a blurry handprint.

“No bite marks.”

“Guys, I’m in Ben’s medical files,” Riley says. “You’re looking at one of the least likely victims of a heart attack. These test pilots get rigorous medical screenings every three months, and Ben’s last checkup is...well...better than  _ mine. _ ” 

“That’s because the last time you had a physical it was after that three day stakeout in Cancun when you got street vendor churros every single day,” Jack chuckles.

“Fair. Anyway, Mac, that rash might be an indicator of contact with a toxic substance.”

“Jack, is there anything used on planes that could cause these symptoms?” Mac asks. He’s trying to run a list of the chemicals he knows of through his own mental database, but the adrenaline crash from the almost-failed zipline experience is still giving him trouble. He feels overly jittery but also incredibly tired, and like he’s missing something important. 

“Not in the past twenty years, and definitely not from skin contact,” Jack says. “Otherwise I’d be dead by now.” 

“So if he was poisoned, it was deliberate.”

“Who’d want to poison my dad?” Asher asks.

“Hopefully, we’ll know soon,” Riley replies. “I’m pulling up security footage of the airport Ben took off from this morning. I’ll skim through anything in his hangar and...gotcha.” There’s that little note of triumph in her voice that Mac always feels glad to hear, whether she’s hacking a network or putting the finishing touches on their house’s Halloween decor with Sam. 

“What?”

“The pre-flight mechanic. He went out of his way to touch Ben's arm. You said it was his left arm, correct?”

Mac double-checks before responding. “Yes.”

“He was wearing latex gloves instead of normal mechanics’ leather ones. He was protecting his hands from whatever that was.” Riley’s tapping away on her rig. “I’m gonna see if I can get a clear visual to get facial rec going, find out who this guy was and why he’d want to poison Ben.”

“Okay. Let us know if you get a hit,” Jack says. 

Mac glances down to fit on the cuff and gets hit with a sudden wave of vertigo. He sways, catching himself on the seat back and giving Asher a weak smile when the kid looks at him with worried eyes. 

_ Come on, get it together. You’re inside the plane now. It’s fine, you’re fine. _

* * *

THE PHOENIX FOUNDATION

Sam stands up from the table with a satisfied smile. Henshaw finally cracked. It took everything she had, but with the ability to focus solely on his situation and not on her problems with Taylor, she finally found his weak point. 

When she steps out of the interrogation room with her tablet tucked under her arm, (no pencils to be taken by the detainee is the biggest plus of tech in her opinion, she got stabbed once and doesn’t like the sound of tapping pens or pencils anymore), Jill is waiting with a tablet of her own.

“Our techs did some digging into Taylor’s story. He checks out.” She holds out the tablet. “We were able to get the medical file from his hospital stay in Georgia. The attending physician is an Emilia Sokolov.” 

Sam nods, glancing through the scanned paper, with a couple brown fingerprint smudges and a slightly charred corner. She’s surprised they got this much. But then again, Jill and her people are good. 

She can’t in good conscience continue to hold Taylor out of spite. Which is what it is, if she’s being honest with herself.

“Enter Henshaw’s intel into our database, see if he connects any dots for us,” She says, handing over her tablet to Jill. “And get me a list of all our currently empty safehouses in L.A.”

Jill nods. Sam walks away, already typing up the orders for safehouse custody for Taylor. They’ll need to get him a car from the motor pool as well. She thinks there’s a ‘14 Audi they don’t have retrofitted for missions yet. She’s not giving him a car with secret stash spaces. 

She submits her request for safehouse custody and then makes her way down to the cell block. She explains the situation to the officer on duty, signing the clearance forms and taking responsibility for however things go from this point on. 

The guard offers her a pair of cuffs and she shakes her head. Taylor’s not leaving here as a prisoner. She walks down to the cell, swipes her badge, and lets the door hiss open, stepping inside.

“Back so soon?” Taylor laughs humorlessly. “I didn’t think I rated that level of interest.”

“Keep talking and I'll go tear up the release orders I just signed.”

His eyebrows raise. “I guess you did check into my story after all.”

She nods. “You’ll be given a car and a safehouse in the city. I’ll post a protection detail of two agents at all times. It won’t be the luxury accommodations you’re used to, but…”

“The luxury of not looking over my shoulder for a sniper will be enough for the moment.” Sam truly doesn’t know the man on the other side of that door. She can still see traces of the trademark arrogance, but she also sees someone human. And she wonders, just a little, if that’s because she’s looking at him on this side of finding her  _ own _ humanity again. 

“Well, are you ready to get out of here?” She asks, nodding to the door.

“I’ve been ready to leave this bloody room for a week.” But there’s no real anger in his tone, just a sort of almost bantering teasing. The way things used to be. Sam sighs. She really hopes he doesn’t think they’ll go back to the way things were. Because they can’t. And if he tries...well, he’ll wish he’d stayed right here in this cell. 

* * *

"Jack?" Mac says, swiping at his forehead and missing by a mile. “It’s really hot in here.”

“I know, dude, you ripped out our AC. Or did you conveniently forget that?” Jack laughs a little. “You got used to Desi’s chauffeuring, didn’t you?”

Mac shakes his head and is hit with another wave of vertigo. It sends him stumbling back from where he’s crouched reading the concerning numbers on the blood pressure cuff, knocking his shoulder against the side of the plane. 

“Hey, kiddo?” Jack’s voice instantly has a worried edge. “I know we didn’t just hit turbulence.”

“Yeah...I just...got a little dizzy,” Mac mumbles. He shakes his head, and the feeling only intensifies. As does the weird numbness in his toes and fingers. He really hopes it’s just anxiety or something. Or his imagination playing tricks. But he can’t quite believe that.

He looks down at his hand. He scratched his palms up pretty badly when he caught the cable and the edge of the door. He can’t tell if there’s a rash or not. But a contact poison on broken skin works much faster than if it has to be slowly absorbed.

“Jack...I can’t tell but I think I might have been exposed to the same toxin the pilot was.”

"Mac..." Jack’s voice is worried, tense. 

"I don't know if I touched it okay?" Mac gasps. "I don't know."  _ But given the symptoms I’m pretty sure I did.  _

Asher scoots around. “Do you have a fever?” He asks, starting to hold up a hand toward Mac’s face. 

“No, don’t touch me.” Mac bats Asher’s hand away, careful not to actually touch the boy’s skin. “Does your dad have water bottles in here?”

Asher nods.

“Get two.”

Asher nods, face pinched with worry. He scuttles away, digs through a small backpack, and returns with two bottles.

“Okay, I’m gonna open one of these and pour it over your hands,” Mac says, holding them over an empty ice cream bucket that was stuffed under one of the seats, presumably Ben’s insurance in case Asher got airsick. “Then I’ll have you do that for me. Scrub really well with that rag.” He nods to the slightly greasy cloth caught on one of the seat tracks. 

Asher nods, and scrubs his hands just as Mac directs him, in between the fingers and up the arms as well. Then Mac shoves his already rolled sleeves further up his arms and holds out his own hands.

“Pour slow, like I did.” He’s so hot he just wants to dump the bottle over his head, but if there’s any water left after his hands and arms feel clean he’ll drink that. 

“Riley you better have good news for us on that fake mechanic,” Jack says. 

“I don’t have great news, because whoever he is he’s not showing up in our databases, but I can tell you he hasn’t left the airport since. He’s still there, at the hangar.”

“Then someone go get him. And find out what that poison was.” Jack’s voice is flat. Angry. “Whatever you need to do to get it.” 

* * *

Sam can tell when Matty is ready to snap. The way the woman looks staring at the War Room screen makes her stop on her way to quick-marching Taylor down to the motor pool. Matty hasn’t even bothered to fog and mute the windows, which means whatever this is has upset her deeply.

And Bozer...Bozer kind of looks like he’s going to pass out.

Sam drags Taylor through the doors and points him toward the couch. “Sit down,” She snaps. “And don’t move.” There’s no point in leaving him outside if the War Room isn’t muted, and she still kind of wants to keep a close eye on him. 

Taylor does. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asks, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“You know how Mac and Jack were helping with that plane that was in trouble?” Bozer asks. “Well, the pilot got poisoned and now it’s affecting Mac too.”

Sam has seen Bozer look this bad exactly three times in his life. During the Bishop op, the time Mac got nerve gas poisoning while Bozer was in spy school, and when Mac went missing last year. 

She hasn’t been as in the loop on this as she should have been, clearly. Fixating on Russ has cost her her connection with her team.  _ How does Matty manage this? _ She makes the balancing act look effortless. Like it’s nothing to coordinate multiple missions and worry about multiple people.

She’s beginning to regret dragging Taylor in here. He might be a valuable informant but she doesn’t need him seeing this op fall apart. She doesn’t need him to see Mac’s vulnerable places. Because knowing him, he’ll want to exploit them. 

“Do we know what the poison was?”

“No,” Matty says, just shy of a shout. “We would if airport officials at Moorpark would let Eileen through. I sent her up as soon as Riley told us the poisoner was still on the ground there.”  _ A smart move. Eileen was closest, finishing up that protection detail in Denver. _ A former assassin is a remarkably good asset when you want to keep someone from getting killed. “But they’re giving me the red tape runaround.”

“Listen, Matty, Mac’s going down fast.” Jack’s voice is tinny over comms. “We need that antidote.” 

“Ahem.”

Sam turns around and glares at Taylor. 

“You said don’t move, not don’t speak,” He says, and Sam feels quiet fury bubbling up.  _ Damn it. _ This is the Taylor she knows. Exploiting every single loophole he can find. One of the few people she’s ever felt threatened by, sitting across a table from. The other is also in this room.  _ This should get interesting.  _ “Let me help.” 

“I think not,” Matty says. “This isn’t about anything you were involved with.”

“No, but I can get your operative into that airport.” Taylor frowns. “I still have connections, Ms. Webber.”

“Who would probably very much like to kill you,” Sam adds. 

“A few don’t. Some still owe me.” Russ shrugs. “Just let me try. What do you have to lose?”

_ Nothing. _ If Matty can’t get Eileen into that airport, then no one can, at least not through legal channels. Sam knows Eileen would absolutely be able to get in there on her own, but that could cause a whole new collection of problems.  _ They _ have nothing to lose. But apparently Taylor is willing to cash in his connections and burn his bridges. For them. 

Or at the very least, to put himself a bit more squarely on their good side.

Matty sizes him up with a quick glance. Sam wonders what  _ she  _ sees. They have no history aside from the past two weeks. She wonders what it’s like to look at this man without knowing what he’s done that isn’t listed in any dossier. Without thinking about the past. 

Then she hands him her phone. 

“Okay.” 

* * *

Jack trusts Matty and Cage. He’s not sure how much he trusts Russ Taylor. But when the man’s shady connections pan out and get Eileen past the airport security, he thinks he might be willing to give the guy a free pass.

He glances into the back and flinches. Mac looks bad. Way too pale, sweating buckets, hands trembling where he has them rested in his lap. Jack’s afraid he’s right about absorbing the poison through the cuts on his hands. It’s hitting him hard and fast. 

“Kiddo, you hang in there, okay?” He says. “Eileen’s in the airport now. And Riley just told me Friar got our guy, heading for a private airstrip where a plane chartered to some shell company landed an hour ago. It’s ready for takeoff, but she’s hacking the tower computers and buying us some time by shutting down their clearance.” 

The truth is, these guys will probably just ignore the tower and take off anyway. But they have to try everything they can. 

“I have eyes on the target, heading for the runway.” Jack isn’t sure if it’s better or worse that Eileen is looped in. He wishes he was there himself, wants to break bones for what that man did, even if indirectly, to his kid. 

“Do not engage unless ordered, Agent Brennan.” Matty’s voice is calm. Scary calm, but still. Jack doesn’t think that’s what this situation warrants. He’s only keeping a lid on his vocabulary because of Asher. 

"Eileen, if he gets away we might never find that antidote. "

"And if Eileen tries to take him alone and spooks him..."

"Matty, this pilot’s life and maybe Mac’s are at risk. We need that man now."

"Jack, I know you're worried, but I am trying to save Mac too!" Matty’s voice is a yell. 

And then Jack hears it. The sound of engines and the thud of boots. 

_ Backup, she wanted Eileen to wait for backup because it was already almost there.  _

“We’ve got the plane’s takeoff route blocked. I’m going in for him.” Eileen’s breathing becomes choppy, she’s on the move. Then there’s a resounding crack of gunfire, and Jack’s heart sinks down into his boots. 

“Brennan, talk to me!” Matty’s voice is a sharp order tinged with real panic.

“He drew on me, backup can confirm,” Eileen gasps. “He’s down.”

Jack hears the thud of footsteps converging.

“Caught him center mass. He’s dead.” Eileen says. Jack doesn’t blame her, even though he can hear the regret in her voice.  _ It’s hard to miss if you’ve spent years needing to make every shot count.  _ It’s instinct at the point he and Eileen have both reached. Kill or be killed overrides everything else when you’re in that kind of situation. She did what she had to do. 

“He had something in his other hand when he fell. Looks like a small vial. There’s shards everywhere.” Jack feels a cold clenching in his stomach. 

“Don’t touch any of them. That’s either the toxin or the antidote.” Matty says. 

"Damn it!" Jack shouts, then sighs. “Sorry, Asher.”

Asher doesn’t say anything. He’s been scarily quiet since Mac found out he was poisoned. 

“There’s a hazmat team with your backup,” Matty continues.  _ No wonder she was so determined to make Eileen wait.  _ Jack suddenly feels guilty for his outburst. Maybe if he’d kept his cool, Eileen wouldn’t have been on such a razor edge. Maybe things wouldn’t be this bad.

But he can’t think like that. What’s done is done. They’re all worried about Mac. Now they just have to do whatever it takes to save him. 

“I have the local trauma center on standby to receive the sample. Get that vial to the lab.” 

* * *

ONE EMERGENCY LANDING LATER

Desi didn’t want to learn the hard way that the only thing worse than watching Mac suffer through the effects of a mystery poison is having to listen, on comms, too far away to do anything at all to help. 

Riley looks close to tears, especially when they hear Brennan’s news. If that was the antidote, and the lab can’t synthesize it in time…

Desi refuses to let herself think that way. Mac is going to be alright. Because the alternative is unacceptable. Specifically, the alternative is unacceptable to Jack Dalton, and Desi is half-convinced that Jack is capable of altering fate itself if he doesn’t like the hand he’s dealt. 

Still, she’s hotwiring the first pickup she can get her hands on and driving herself and Riley in the direction Jack is flying. She has no idea where they’ll be setting down, or what hospital they’ll be going to, but she can make rough estimates based on how much fuel Jack said they had, the updates coming through her comms sporadically, whenever they get enough signal, and the map Riley has spread out on her lap. It’s over a decade old, but her computer is out of charge (Mac took the battery out on the op and she was relying on the power cord in the plane) and her phone screen is too small to make navigating maps anything more than frustrating when she’s concussed and already light-sensitive. 

“There’s a trauma center on the west edge of the protected land. It looks like there’s a service road leading to it,” Riley says. 

“Makes sense. If someone’s already been out there stranded and injured for hours, wasting time transporting them further would be a risk.” Desi’s time with search and rescue taught her how precious minutes are in survival situations. 

“It’s the only one in the radius Jack will be able to land in,” Riley adds. 

“Then I’m sure that’s where Matty will route them.” Desi briefly glances at the map and takes another turn. 

Riley looks over from the map and frowns. “Your arm’s bleeding again.”

Desi knows; she’s been feeling the warm dampness soaking her t-shirt sleeve and starting to trickle down to her elbow for a good ten minutes now. But she doesn’t want to stop and deal with it. It’s not going to kill her. She’s gone longer on worse.

“There’s a rest area ahead, pull in,” Riley says, glancing at the side of the road.

“I’ll get it looked at when we get to the hospital,” Desi argues. 

“No. Look, I have spent too much time around both Jack and Mac to listen to people who are being stubborn about their own injury status,” Riley replies. “And...I have to do something. I feel useless.”

“You’re not useless, Riley,” Desi says. But she puts on the blinker and pulls into the rest stop anyway.

“I’m supposed to be their eye in the sky. I’m supposed to be helping them. And I can’t do anything.” Riley looks down at the map in her lap. “Without my tech, I’m just deadweight.”

Desi sighs. Concussed, Riley is clearly letting her walls down and her insecurities creep out. “Riley, that’s ridiculous.” 

Riley just shrugs noncommittally as they start up the little winding trail drive to the rest stop, which is perched on an overlook above the road. 

“Hope this isn’t one of the kind with little outhouses,” Desi jokes, hoping to lighten things up a little. Not that she hasn’t patched herself up in worse places. And if Jack isn’t exaggerating, he and Mac and Sarah once rode out a literal hurricane in one.  _ I really need to pry that story out of her, because those two are not talking about it.  _ Still, they’re not her favorite places. 

Thankfully, the rest stop is a little timber-frame building with a big sign out front that says ‘Running Water’. Desi parks and they both climb out, Riley grabbing her backpack that has a mini first-aid kit in it. 

Thankfully, the bathrooms are singles. Riley closes the door behind them and locks it, then sets the first aid kit on a little wooden shelf beside the sink, after moving aside a coffee can that on inspection, contains the toilet paper. Apparently, there’s a mouse problem here. 

Desi turns on the sink and lets the water run for a few minutes. The water pressure isn’t great, but it looks clean. She unwraps the bandage from her upper arm and hisses softly. The wrapping has stuck to the skin with drying blood, and pulls at the wounds. She’s going to need stitches after all.

Their comms have been reduced to nothing more than staticky buzzing. Desi switches hers off, and leans on the sink while Riley rummages around for some butterfly bandages and disinfectant. 

Riley is quick but thorough on the patch job. It’s most likely muscle memory at this point. You don’t spend as many years in the field as she has and not have this kind of thing down to a science.

Still, her hands are visibly shaking when she secures the wrapped bandage over top and tucks the end in. And when she turns around from throwing the antiseptic wipe packets in the trash, there are tear streaks on her cheeks. 

Desi isn’t much of a hugger. But at the moment, it looks like that’s what Riley needs. She holds out her good arm and Riley leans into her.

A few sniffles later, she pulls back, wiping a hand over her blotchy cheeks. Desi opens the coffee can and hands her a couple squares of paper to blow her dripping nose, and Riley accepts them with a nod, splashing her face in the sink when she’s done and tucking some of her stray hair behind her ears.

“Okay, I’m good,” She says. “Let’s get out of here.”

They’re walking back to the truck when Desi glances at the front of the little building and has an idea. She turns to Riley.

“Go on inside and get us a more recent map, will you?” Desi says. “I would, but...there’s still blood and I don’t want to freak someone out.” Riley nods. 

When she comes back, she has a folded map in hand. “Got one.”

“Cool. I got us something for the road too.”

Desi holds out a handful of candy bars from the vending machine that’s sitting in the little alcove outside the door. She cleaned out the spare change in the truck’s console for them, but she did replace it with a crisp twenty and one of the apology notes Jack taught her was a good idea to carry around, so she calls that fair. 

A tiny, real smile slides across Riley’s face for a moment. 

“They had Milky Ways?”

“Yep. Although they almost got stuck. I was considering shaking that thing before I realized I had enough left to get another one and got them both to fall down.”

“You’d have ruined all my good work on your shoulder,” Riley scolds. She takes one of the candy bars. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

* * *

#

“Mac? Mac!”

Mac jumps. He’s been drifting, lost somewhere in a haze of pain and feverish dreams, for...he doesn’t know how long it’s been, actually. He gasps in a shaky breath, trying to ground himself. He feels like he’s falling, and even though he knows he’s not, his mind won’t stop telling him that he’s dangling much too far above the ground. That this time Jack won’t grab him.

His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He takes a deep breath but it doesn’t help. His lungs feel crushed and burning. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t even move. He tries to cry out but it’s nothing more than a breathy wheeze.

He’s shaking, panting, trying to get a grip and ride this out, but he feels wrong and everything is too much. He can’t, he can’t...

“Mac?”

Asher’s voice cuts through Mac’s desperate, swirling thoughts. He tries to catch it and focus on that, and on the face that’s coming into his blurry vision, the dark curls and worried eyes.

“Hey, hoss, you with me?”

Jack’s voice sounds far away, but the fact that he’s there, Mac isn’t falling, because Jack caught him, is anchoring. Mac grabs onto that and pulls himself back from the swirling dark edges of the whirlpool in his brain.

“Yeah.” He finally manages to whisper.

“You were scarin’ us a little there, kiddo.”

#

“I’m okay. For now,” Mac amends. There’s no point in lying to Jack. Besides, he’s sure this is only going to get worse, until he goes unconscious like Ben.

He tries to shake off the fog still hovering in his brain. The images he can’t quite chase away.

They’re shifting. From falling endlessly, waiting to hit the ground, to hands and eyes and cell bars. He hates it when his past comes knocking, and it really, really likes to do that whenever he’s not at his best.

He curls in on himself, trying to chase out the memories and manage the pain searing through his stomach and ribs. He just has to hold on a little longer.

He shivers and tucks his legs to his chest. He knows he’s safe, knows no one here will hurt him, but the memories won’t leave him alone. And he’s told Asher to stay back, to stay away from him, so he doesn’t hit the kid in his nightmares, but there’s nothing he can do about what he might say.

“Hey, Asher?” Jack calls. “Why don’t you come sit up front with me?”

Asher looks from Mac to Jack.

“Go on,” Mac says. He doesn’t really need to be watched over, it’s not like anyone can really do anything about his situation until they get the antidote. He just needs to rest. Hopefully keep the poison from spreading through him as fast as it otherwise might.

His ribs hurt, where he banged against the side of the plane when the cable lost connection, and his hands feel like they’re burning. He can’t tell if that’s the fault of the cuts and scrapes, or of the poison. He takes shallow, slow breaths, trying to slow his racing heartbeat. He has to stay conscious as long as he can.

“Here, you wanna be a real co-pilot?” Jack continues as Asher climbs into the seat beside him. “Put these headphones on and you can hear my friends and what they’re saying, okay?” Asher nods and pulls the green headphones over his ears. “Okay, everyone, I got my co-pilot on the line so watch your language,” Jack continues. 

_ Thanks, Jack. _ Mac can feel his brief lucid state slipping away. He’s definitely going to sink down into another nightmare. And the less of that Asher has to hear, the better off they’re all going to be.

* * *

LITERALLY ON A WING AND A PRAYER NOW

Matty sounds strung out and exhuasted. “Eileen got the vial to the hospital lab and it’s being analyzed now. According to preliminary reports, they think it’s the antidote, but it’s too soon to tell.”

Jack hopes it is. Maybe, for once, they’ll have some actual luck.

“There’s a private airstrip forty miles ahead of you. You can make an emergency landing there and then figure the rest out later, so we can get Mac to a hospital and have him ready as soon as they get the antidote figured out.” 

Jack glances at the fuel gauge and then back out the windscreen.

“We’re not gonna make it to that airstrip. We are running on fumes now, Matty.” Jack sighs. “I gotta put this bird down fast. Find me anything.”

“You’re over uncharted wilderness, Jack. there aren’t even good roads.”

“Matty, I can land in a cow pasture! Get me something!” Jack knows it’s not fair to take it out on her but Mac is sick and they don’t have an antidote yet and he’s angry and helpless.

“I’m doing that, Jack.” Matty’s voice is calm but not angry. Jack appreciates it. She’s probably just as worried as he is. Maybe more so because she’s thousands of miles away and helpless to do anything to help Mac at all. 

“There’s a large lake up ahead of you. Just fifteen miles. And there’s a nearby ranger station that can give you a chopper airlift.” 

“Good. That’s good.” Jack can work with that. Water landings aren’t his favorite, but better than crashing into trees. 

“Yeah, just one problem.” Bozer says. “There’s a mountain in your way. And you said there isn’t enough left in the tank to get any farther, so you can’t make a climb or go around.” 

Jack can see the green slope rising ahead of them. It looks huge and they’re basically on a collision course. But he’s seen this before. And...

“I see it, Boze. But...I think that might actually help.”

“Jack...I hate to say it, but have you lost your mind?” 

“Not exactly. Just being Mac for once.” Jack may not know physics the way his kid does, but he does know some of the practical applications. Just because he can’t rattle off formulas doesn’t mean he’s not good at what he does. “Okay, when wind hits a mountain with that shape, it diverts upward, creating a fast air current. If we time it right, we can ride that current to gain altitude without using our remaining fuel.”

“That’s...just crazy enough it might work,” Bozer says.

"Birds on long migrations..."

"Jack, spare me the bird stories and do it." Jack smiles slightly. Matty knows he knows what he’s doing. He’s just used to talking to Mac and keeping the kid occupied. But Mac is half-out of it already, and he’s not really paying attention to anything. 

Except that, apparently, he is.

As Jack pushes them forward toward the mountain face, he hears scuffling behind him, and turns to see Mac holding himself up with the back of a seat, eyes wide and frightened like a scared horse’s.

“Jack, what are you doing?” Mac gasps.

Jack knows if the kid was himself, he’d know what was happening. But Mac is drugged, in pain, and scared. And his fear of heights is definitely playing a part.

“You’re going to get us killed!” 

Jack knows Mac doesn’t mean that. But it still hurts. He just sort of expects his kid to trust him. Even now, knowing why Mac doesn’t, sets an ache in his heart. But he can’t afford to think about that.

“No, kiddo. I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t want to die.” 

It’s so quiet Jack almost misses it. But he doesn’t. And that hurts even more. 

He’s going to get Mac home. Safely. But he has to do this to do it. He grips the yoke tighter, waiting for his moment. 

"JACK!"

"Trust me!"

And then they pull up. Jack can feel the current as they hit it, forcing them up and over the peak. There’s a strange sense of sheer calm. He’s no longer in control of anything. Not their speed, not their altitude, not even the plane itself. They go where the wind takes them.

That scares some people. Jack has learned to enjoy the letting go.

They float over the peak and below them, a blue patch in the sea of dark green, spreads the lake.

“I can see the lake, Matty. We’re going in for a landing now.” Jack focuses on the shimmering water below and tells himself the only reason it looks like that is because of the sunlight. He’s not getting teary. He can do that when they’re back on solid ground and Mac is safe. 

“You two, strap in,” Jack orders. “It’s gonna get bumpy.” He knows Asher’s already buckled up, but Mac wasn’t, in the back. He listens tensely as something rustles and clicks. There’s not really a specific restraint system in the back, but he trusts Mac, even a loopy, poisoned Mac, to figure something out.

“Jack, whatever happens, just...focus on the landing.” Mac says shakily. “Don’t...don’t worry about anything else.” 

“Mac, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“Just dizzy.”

Jack doubts that’s all it is. But he doesn’t have the focus or the energy to argue. He banks the Cessna and starts down for the landing. He’s landed planes in worse shape, on worse ground, and lived to tell the tale. But somehow, this is the one that scares him most. Maybe because the last time, he was alone. This time, the two kids in this plane have put their lives in his hands. He can’t let them down.

The plane floats on a stray updraft and Jack curses under his breath, steadying them and bringing them down carefully.

The water seems to rush up at them. Then there’s a jarring jolt, spray billows over the windshield, and the plane stops, rocking slightly on the water. Jack can hear it trickling in through the cracks around the rollup door.

“This is why we’d have the hatchet.” Jack says to Asher as the two of them unstrap. He grabs a pair of bright orange life jackets from under the seats. “But the door will open. Here.” He holds out the smaller life jacket. “Your dad had this for you. I’m gonna put him in his so it’s easier to manage getting him out of here. Can you get this on?”

Asher nods. 

Jack steps into the back of the plane, where Mac is untangling himself from the straps he used to stay steady during the landing and fumbling with the ones he secured Ben with. The pilot is still unconscious, but he’s breathing. Jack lifts his shoulders and slides the life jacket under him, listening to the sloshing of water outside, and partly inside, the plane.

“Jack, you’ll have to get Ben to shore.” Mac says. “Asher and I will follow you.” He holds up something that looks like he’s made it out of pieces of the plane’s insulation and some bungee straps. “I made a floatation device for myself. I’ll be fine.”

Jack nods. Someone has to pull the pilot’s body, and neither of the others is strong enough for that right now. He opens the roll-up door and a wave of water sloshes in, throwing them all off balance. Asher yelps.

“It’s okay,” Jack says. He lifts Ben out of the plane, laying him on his back in the water to keep his face clear of it, and then jumps in himself. The lake is mountain-runoff cold, even now, and he takes even breaths to stave off the sudden shock.

“Water’s cold, you two. Get used to it before jumping in,” he calls back. Mac doesn’t need to shock his system any more, and given that Asher was in shock himself not so long ago, he doesn’t need that either.

He turns around toward where he can see a dock on the shoreline, and starts swimming one-handed, towing Ben alongside him. He hears the splashes when the others get into the water, but he can’t really turn around to look.

He has to trust that they can make it to shore as well.

Finally, his legs hit bottom. He stands up and hauls Ben up to the beach, almost running with him. Only when he’s set the man down does he turn around.

He can see Asher’s orange jacket only a few yards from the shallows. But he doesn’t see Mac anywhere between him and the plane. There’s a couple chunks of white foam bobbing, but...

He plunges back into the water, running toward Asher. He reaches the kid just as he stands up.

“Asher, where’s Mac?”

“He was right behind me! He said keep swimming, no matter what.” 

“Damn it, Mac!” Jack yells. He throws himself into the water and starts swimming.

It feels like forever before he reaches the chunks of foam. They’re the only marker he has of where Mac might have gone under.

Then he sees the arm draped over one, secured in place with the straps and cord.

“Mac!” He turns the kid’s body so he can see. Mac’s arm is holding him up, but his head must have slipped from where he’d rested it on one of the foam chunks, and his face is in the water. Jack flips him over and starts swimming as fast as he can. He has to get Mac on land so he can help him. The cold water is cramping his muscles, but he keeps going, even though every breath burns.

_ No, no, no. We are not coming this far only to lose you. Not acceptable. _

He drags the kid’s limp body onto the shore. Mac isn’t breathing and his pulse is almost nonexistent.  _ No, no, no. _ It was bad enough that Mac was poisoned, but now he’s almost drowned.  _ He needs medical help now. Right now. _

“Don’t touch him, Asher.” Jack warns. Jack’s already been exposed to the poison, if the lake water didn’t wash it off Ben’s skin. He doesn’t want the kid getting into it too. 

He leans down over Mac, starting rescue breaths. “Come on, kid. Come on. Breathe.”

Behind him, he hears the whoosh of chopper rotors powering up and the chatter of incoming people, but he can’t take his eyes off Mac. Just as the boots of the rangers reach them, Mac rolls sideways, retching. Jack feels like sobbing.

He turns to the medics as they race up. “We’ve had a plane crash, and these two,” he gestures to Mac and Ben, “have been poisoned.”

“Jack Dalton?” The first medic asks. “Your boss told us to expect you.”

He nods.

“We got two contact poisoning cases here, and two potentials,” the second medic says. She hands Jack and Asher two ponchos. “I’m sorry, this was the best we could do on such short notice. You’ll need to get rid of your clothes and put these on, try and minimize exposure to any toxins that the fabric might be holding. We’ve notified the hospital to prep for a decontamination washdown procedure when we bring you in.”

Jack changes as fast as humanly possible, because if he and Asher need to strip, then the medical team is definitely going to want to get rid of Ben and Mac’s clothes as well. Ben’s totally unconscious, but Mac...he’s still just aware enough to put up a fight. 

Jack can hear the soft moans and pleas over the sound of the medics’ chatter. He’s too well attuned to Mac in distress.

He hurries over, catching Mac’s hands in his own as he tries to push away the scissors the medics are using on his shirt.

“Mac, they have to, stop fighting them.”

“No, Jack, please don’t let them.”

“They have to.” Jack swallows, trying to block out Mac’s pleas. It’s almost a mercy when he falls silent. But it terrifies Jack to his core as well.  _ Come on, kid, please. You have to make it. _

* * *

Thankfully, despite the fact that this area is wilderness, there’s a trauma-rated medical center tucked in the closest valley town. Jack figures the amount of hiking accidents and dangers from wild animals probably rate that level of expertise. 

He sits in one of the plastic chairs in the hallway, waiting for word on Mac. He’s been scrubbed down and changed into a pair of clean green scrubs. Unless he starts showing symptoms, the doctors have agreed he can wait in the hall instead of be monitored in one of the other rooms. He wouldn’t have put up a fuss if they had wanted to put him in with Mac, but they’re not letting anyone but the professionals in that room right now.

Jack isn’t sure he wants to know why. 

There’s a soft slap of shoes on the tile floor, and he looks up to see a nurse in cheerful Snoopy-print scrubs walking up. She turns toward him and then stops.

“Jack Dalton? You came in with an Asher Reinman?”

“Yes.”

The nurse looks at Jack. “We’ve contacted the boy’s grandfather, but he’s over three hours away. Would it be okay if Asher waits with you until then?”

Jack nods. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

He doesn’t like the thought of the kid sitting by himself in here all that time. He can’t do anything for Mac, alone and maybe scared in that room behind him, but he can be there for Asher. The nurse walks away, and a few minutes later she returns with Asher trailing behind her. He looks pale and worried, but Jack hopes that’s only because he’s scared for his dad. Ben is in the ICU unit across the hall. He’s stable, for now, but like Mac, no one is allowed in his room. Jack guesses he’s lucky they broke the rules on visitors for him. He guesses Matty is to thank for the fact that his insistence on staying close to his kid was met with no more than raised eyebrows and a plastic chair.

The nurse sets down another chair and Asher sits down, slumped over, picking at a cracked fingernail and studiously not looking at anyone. The nurse walks off, and Jack leans back. He knows how to handle this kind of situation. It’s Asher’s prerogative whether to engage in a conversation or not.

“Mr. Dalton?” Asher finally asks.

“Yeah, kiddo?” Jack reaches over to ruffle Asher’s hair gently, and the kid leans into the touch.

“I’m sorry Mac got hurt. He was trying to help me.”

“That wasn’t your fault, okay, little man?” Jack says. “Mac would never want you to think you’re the reason he got hurt. Trust me.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Asher asks. He sounds just as scared for Mac as he does for his own father.

“I don’t know.” Jack’s learned it’s always better to be honest with kids. They’ll learn on their own if you're not, and then they’ll stop trusting you altogether. 

“He was just trying to help us.” Asher sniffles, wiping tears off his cheeks. “He doesn’t deserve to have this happen.”

_ Oh kid, you don’t know the half of it. _

Mac is the best person Jack knows. And also, somehow, still the one who suffers most.

“I don’t want him to die. Or my dad.” Asher chokes out.

“Hey, hey, come here.” Jack pulls the kid against his chest. “Come here. I got you.”

* * *

Mac is pretty sure he’s never going to get used to waking up in a hospital. No matter what reason he’s in them for, it sucks every time.

At least this time, he’s surrounded by family. Jack is sitting in a chair beside the bed, Riley is sprawled on the bench seat in the window, and Desi is literally sleeping standing up, leaning against the wall.

“Hey,” Mac whispers hoarsely. His throat feels raw and his lungs hurt. He must have inhaled water after their landing. He doesn’t remember anything after strapping himself into his improvised floatation device and jumping out of the plane into the lake.

Desi jumps, startled, then catches herself with a self-conscious clearing of her throat.

Jack blinks awake, and a small smile spreads across his face. “Hey, good to see you back in the land of the living, kiddo.”

“Ben?” Mac asks.

“He woke up a couple hours ago. Apparently the poison was much less effective administered by skin. Asher’s with him now.”

Riley rolls over, stretching and then wincing when her hand hits the window frame. “I win.”

“Huh?” Mac asks.

“I bet Desi you’d wake up on her watch.” Riley says.

Mac refrains from telling her that Desi was in fact asleep when he woke up. It has something to do with the death glare she’s currently giving him that is a very clear threat.

“Yeah, as soon as they told us you were out of critical condition, those two were betting on you,” Jack chuckles.

Mac grins slightly. Then frowns as realization hits him. “Why?”

He doesn’t have to explain himself any more. Apparently, Riley knows exactly what he means, because she picks up her rig and flips it open.

“The tac team retrieved a phone from the poisoner Eileen shot. Apparently he’d been hired by the company Ben was testing planes for. He’d found a major flaw in their new engine design and when he sent in the report, they swept it under the rug. He got concerned and told them he was going to take it up the line.”

“So they decided to shut him up permanently.” Jack sighs.

“Yeah. Also, I did a scan on alarm reports in his residential area, and Ben’s house was broken into today. His personal computer is missing from his workspace, but he’d uploaded everything to a secure cloud that, now that he’s awake and talking, he was able to give me the access information for. It’s all there. All his reports and the schematics.”

“So they’re going to pay.”

“Oh, Matty is going to make sure of that.” Riley sets her computer down.

Just then, the door opens and Eileen walks in, carrying a tray of four coffees. “Mac, you’re awake.” Her brogue is very evident in her voice, she’s either tired or just doesn’t care to disguise it.

“Hear I have you to thank...for getting the antidote,” Mac says.

She shrugs, but there’s a genuine happy smile. “Turns out saving people is definitely a more rewarding profession.” He can see the shadow in her eyes, he heard enough of what happened over comms to know she had to make a kill shot. That’s got to haunt her, now that she’s trying to turn things around. But saving him and Ben seems to have helped her come to grips with it.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Now I don’t owe you,” she says, but she’s still smiling. “Now, who asked for which coffee again?”

* * *

SAFE HOUSE

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION IN LOS ANGELES

Sam parks outside the safe house she’s requisitioned for Taylor. There will be a guard watching it around the clock, ostensibly for protection for him, but also because she still has her reservations.

Which she would like to remind him of before they part ways. She turns to face him in the passenger seat.

“What you did with the airport. You wanted us to owe you one.” It’s what’s been on her mind since the War Room.

“Is that what you think of me?” Taylor asks, hand on the door handle.

“You’re a mercenary, Taylor.”

“And you’re a negotiator.” He frowns at her. “I thought you believed me in that cell.”

“I do. But no one changes overnight.” She of all people knows that.

“I’m not the man I was, Director.”

Sam certainly hopes so. But she has to hedge her bets. It’s the only way to survive this job. “Listen. If you want me to owe you, then I will. But you hold this over Mac’s head, I will gut you and feed you to the sharks, and no one will ever know what happened.” 

Taylor nods.

“I need you to understand something about this team. Every one of us would die for Angus MacGyver in a heartbeat. If you touch him, you will never be rid of us. If you do anything to hurt him, we will make your life hell.” Sam punctuates her statement with raised eyebrows. “So don’t test us.”

“I don’t plan to.” 

“Good.” Sam reaches into her purse and pulls out a manila folder. “All new papers. Passport, driver’s license, lease documents, everything you need to start over. Riley’s been thorough.” She figures it was a good distraction while Mac was in the ICU.

She tosses him the keys, and he catches them one-handed. 

“Try not to get a ticket. We drive on the right side of the road here.”

Taylor nods with the smallest of smiles. 

* * *

MAC’S HOUSE

Diane is sadly used to waking up to someone’s nightmares.

She’s heard Riley’s off and on for over a decade. Whether they were dreams of Elwood or what she now knows were missions gone wrong, she’s heard her daughter crying far too many times in the night. And now, she’s almost as painfully familiar with Mac’s sobs.

She and Jack are both up and out of bed at the same time, almost colliding with each other at the door. Jack is the first one into Mac’s room, and Diane follows him, flicking on the small lamp on his desk so that they can see.

Mickey is barking and whining, clearly trying to draw attention to Mac’s distress. He’s coughing so hard the bed is shaking, and Diane can see tears rolling down his face. Jack’s already sitting up with him, patting Mac’s back gently. “I know it hurts, kiddo, but you gotta get it out. That’s good. I know. I know.”

Mac continues to cough roughly, and Mickey whines, rubbing his head under Mac’s arm. Diane rubs slow circles on his back. She knows that he’s not supposed to avoid coughing, he’s got to avoid making his pneumonia worse. But it hurts to watch him struggle to breathe. 

When he finally stops coughing, he turns and buries his head in her shoulder. Mickey whines softly and curls around Mac, noticing his shivering. Even though Diane can feel the fever radiating off him, he’s shaking.

“Hey, bud, hey, it’s ok.” Jack’s hand is gentle on Mac’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Mac nods, leaning into Jack. 

“You need to take a shower, bud?” 

Mac nods. 

“You okay with help?” Diane doesn’t know specific details of Mac’s past, and doesn’t want to, but she’s sadly aware of the reasons Mac might have an aversion to having someone else in the shower with him. She can’t forget how tense he was when she helped him wash down after he was exposed to the BZ. It seems like only days ago.  _ These are the times I wish my kids had safer jobs. _

Mac nods again, then coughs weakly. 

“Which one of us?”

“Prob’ly you, might fall,” Mac says. 

“Good plan, bud.” 

Diane nods. She knows that it’s far better for Jack, who’s taller and has a lot more experience with semi-conscious people, handling this one. Jack lifts Mac from the bed and helps him walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

Diane strips the sweat-soaked sheets and replaces them, listening to Jack singing in the shower, and Mac’s heavy coughs that sometimes drown out even Jack’s off-key Metallica. Steam rolls out around and over the door, hanging heavy in the bedroom. 

She pulls out a clean t-shirt (one of Jack’s, she notices with a smile) and cut-off sweatpants for Mac when he comes back. She checked first to be sure the sweatpants weren’t the kind with the fuzzy interior, Mac doesn’t normally mind that texture but he says it’s a bad one when he has a fever. 

Jack opens the door and then helps Mac, wrapped up in a couple of thick towels out to sit down on the side of the bed, rubbing his dripping hair with another towel. Diane lets him help Mac get dressed, then shakes her head at the fact that his own sweatpants are soaked and dripping a puddle underneath him on the floor. He must have been right in the shower along with Mac. 

She puffs up the pillows and Jack helps Mac lean back against them. His face is pale beneath the strands of wet, dark hair falling over his forehead, but he’s smiling, just a little.

Jack is humming. It sounds like Phil Collins’s “Father to Son” if she’s not mistaken.

_ “Sometimes you may feel you're the only one _

_ Cause all the things you thought were safe, now they're gone _

_ But you won't be alone, I'll be here to carry you along _

_ Watching you 'til all your work is done.” _


End file.
